


Counterpart

by scribeofmorpheus



Series: Into the Framework [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Ant-Man (Movies), Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Agents of Hydra, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different Framework Universe (Marvel), Angst, Anti-Hero Adrian Toomes, Anti-Vigilante Act, BAMF Wanda Maximoff, Bath Sex, Blood and Torture, Blow Jobs, Bromance, Cameos for The Liberators, Character Death, Character Deaths, Daddy Steve, Dark Steve Rogers, Darker universe, Different Alter Ego's, F/M, False Memories, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Handicapped Framework!Sam, Hydra rules over the world, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inhuman Abilities, Loss, Love Triangles, Marriage, Memory Loss, Mental Instability, Mourning, Moving On, Non-Canon Relationship, Oral Sex, Other, Out of Character, PTSD, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Pregnancy, Pro-Sokovia Accords, Psychological Trauma, Sex, Side Effects, Star-crossed, Team Dynamics, Terrigenesis (Marvel), The Framework Universe (Marvel), What-If, steve works for hydra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-07-08 20:50:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19875904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribeofmorpheus/pseuds/scribeofmorpheus
Summary: Two worlds. Two lives. One face. A fractured mind.When a routine mission goes awry, leaving Bucky half-dead on a beach with lungs full of salt water, it also leaves him with the stark realisation that the one last good thing he had left was ripped away from him by the treacherous currents of the sea.Despondent and afraid, Bucky, Sam and Wanda scramble to try and bring home what was stolen from them before time runs out.Meanwhile, behind a firewall of immensely intricate code, a woman awakens from a now-forgotten nightmare. An eerie feeling of dread hanging over her every breath. Something isn’t right. The ring on her finger always feels cold, her own reflection, a stranger, and the further she delves into this brave new-old world, the more it begins to unravel at the seams –breading unfamiliarity where safety and comfort should be abundant.Which memories are real? Is it the ones attached to a world where Hydra reigns sovereign –a global policing syndicate helmed by Steve Rogers? Or is it the phantom world which bleeds through the cracks?Memories hurt, that is a constant in any world. And hurt is a bitch!





	1. Submerged

**Author's Note:**

>   
> **A[ _FRAMEWORK_](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Framework) LIMITED FIC SERIES**  
>  _"_[Radcliffe](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Holden_Radcliffe) built a world. A world exactly like this one. Every molecular detail the same. Just with a little less hurt. For each of us."  
> "What do you mean, **hurt**?"  
> "Imagine if your greatest regret could be wiped away. Do you know what that would be?"  
> "I do."  
> ―[Phil Coulson LMD](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Phil_Coulson_\(Life-Model_Decoy\)) and [Melinda May LMD](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Melinda_May_\(Life-Model_Decoy\))

**PART ONE: SUBMERGED**

An old record spun seemlessly inside your shared bedroom, the air was filled with the loud jazzy music from the retro device you had bought for Bucky's birthday. Hidden in weaker octaves below the sound of music was yours and Bucky's passionate moans. The two of you tangled together within your summer sheets, early morning sunlight creeping across the ceiling.

Your fingers were knotted around Bucky's as the bed rocked back and forth in a gentle squeak. The vibrato of his moans travelling from his chest to yours as he kissed you deeply. Your lovemaking was slow, purposeful and sensual. The base of your feet moving along the back of his knees as they twitched every time he hit the right spot. His metal arm busying itself between your legs to increase the pressure, vibrating ever so slightly now and again.

You gasp his name as he mumbles yours hoarsely, the creaking of the springs growing louder as his movements become more powerful. And then your womb fills with warmth as both your breaths hitch and you moan into a deep kiss while your muscles spasm orgasmically.

Bucky looked deep into your eyes and you looked back, losing yourself in his warm embrace and heart-melting smile.

"I love you," you kissed the crook of his nose

"I love you too," he said softly just as he disconnected from you.

It was then that noticed the sheets were torn from where Bucky's metal arm had taken purchase towards the end of his climax.

You pouted, "I loved these sheets too, though."

Bucky glanced back at you, eyes falling down to look at the hole in the bedding, "Guess we have to add bedding to the shopping list." He caressed your pout away with his thumb. "Go take a shower, I'll deal with the sheets before I join you."

You stood from the bed on shaky legs, "Don't be long, babe."

After your shower, you and Bucky got dressed and made your way to the large, shared kitchen on the ground floor of the Avenger's compound. You were more than a little self-conscious of the fact your skin was currently sporting the after-sex glow.

"Good Morning," Wanda said as she saw the two of you enter the room hand in hand. "Sam made a fresh batch of coffee before his run if you're interested." She directed that piece of info at Bucky, he nodded in thanks, grabbing his favourite cracked mug he'd bought at some old military vet’s yard sale.

You saw Wanda sip down some tea, the both of you not the biggest coffee drinkers. Wanda said it made her powers go all whacky and you didn't like feeling anxious first thing in the morning.

"Please tell me there is more of that," you pleaded.

"Here, I made you a cup," Wanda tittered before taking down another mug and filling it with the last remnants of tea from the pot.

Bucky stood over the stove, making French toast while you and Wanda brainstormed over how to improve your costume designs since you were both overdue for an upgrade.

"How are my favourite people this morning?" Sam asked. There was a sweat patch on his grey t-shirt from his morning run.

"All good, how was the run?" You replied.

"Looong," Sam's nose took several whiffs. "I smell carbs. Y'all are killin' me with all this gourmet shit while I'm on my juice cleanse."

Bucky laughed with bewilderment at Sam, "I will never understand your strange diets." Bucky commented, less on Sam's current eating pattern and more on the generations.

"Easy for you to say, not all of us got our physique from a serum." He walked to the fridge and took out a pre-made bottle of green juice.

You noticed Bucky's concentration wander out to the empty space of the airfield strip visible through the window opposite him, his French toast burning making your nose crinkle uncomfortably.

"Bucky, babe, everything alright?" You asked from the couch.

He turned to you, "Yeah, just peachy. Why?"

"Your French toast is burnin' man, that's why." Sam slapped Bucky's arm sarcastically.

"Oh, shit!" He swatted at the black smoke.

You stood and walked over to him. Circling your arms around his midriff, placing your chin on his shoulder, needing to stretch on your tippy-toes to do so.

"It's okay to miss him, you know," you reassured him. "I miss him too."

Bucky knew you were talking about Steve.

Steve had been your mentor after he recruited you during the blip. He'd tracked you down after you started to lose control of your powers from accidentally triggering your terrigenesis.

You'd only know Steve for round-about five years. Bucky had known him a life time’s worth, you couldn't imagine how much he missed his best friend.

After the blip was undone, Sam had pretty much taken over as your mentor. Wanda had grown to become your closest friend once Sam decided it was best if someone with abilities similar to yours took you under their wing when his responsibilities as the new Captain America became all-consuming.

"I know," he patted at your hands locked around him. "Toast?"

You looked at the charred breakfast, the stronger burnt smell making your stomach queasy. "No thanks. Eggs and I haven't been on the best of terms lately."

"Oh, I didn't know."

"It's my fault for not saying anything. I'll just make a fruit salad."

Just then the mission alarm chimed and Sam downed his drink, "They're playin' our song!"

"Guess that means I'll have a protein bar," you made your way to the changing rooms.

Bucky sighed and glared at the flashing yellow light, "We can't have one damn, boring breakfast?" He asked himself.

* * *

"Oh, I see Y/N has an obvious glow," Sam commented while Bucky looked over the monitors on the Quin-jet. Sam was double-checking his ammo stock. "Did you ask her?"

Bucky finished skimming the brief before he turned to Sam, "Not, yet."

Sam looked at him with exasperation, "What's the matter, why are you stallin' man?"

"I'm not stalling!" Bucky said defensively, folding his arms.

Sam let out a sarcastic chuckle, "You are. You're bein' a chicken about this."

Bucky sighed, "I'm waiting for the right moment, is all."

"Right moment? Man, you got an entire jet at your disposal, capable of flying you to some breath-taking places for free, it's like one of the few good perks of bein’ an Avenger, and you’re giving me some bullshit about _perfect timing_. Admit it, you're just scared."

"Whatever, Bird-man."

"Oh, that's cold, Tin-can."

"Hey, you guys done with your lover's spat?" Wanda teased. "Keep the _ring_ talk down, Y/N is heading this way."

Sam looked at her lack of costume, "You not commin'?"

Wanda rubbed her forearms as though she suddenly grew cold, "I'm… I'm not ready for active duty. Sorry, boss."

"Hey, I don't handle the paychecks, I ain't no one’s boss." Sam put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's alright. It's not aliens or somethin' earth shatterin', just a submarine. We can handle this. Heck, I'm sure Grandpa Barnes over here could handle it himself!"

Wanda laughed before giving the boys a heads up, "Hey, whatever you do, don't comment on Y/N's new suit. She's trying out a new look. It's… different." 

Both men made a zipping shut motion on their lips before Wanda headed back into the compound.

“You think she’s doin’ okay?” Sam asked Bucky.

Bucky turned to look at Wanda’s retreating form, she still had that sadness in her eyes, but Bucky could tell the days passing her by numbed the look away.

“She seems better, I think spending time with Y/N has been good for her. But you can never tell with these things,” Bucky said earnestly.

“Yeah, that’s the bitch of it!” Sam sighed.

**~South Pacific Ocean**

"It's really beautiful down here," you pointed at the swarming school of glowing fish visible through the deep-sea diver’s observation glass.

Bucky checked his rifle before looking to the same school of glowing sea creatures, "It is. If we weren't on an infiltration mission, it would be quite the romantic setting." He smirked at you, his eyes looking almost wistful.

"Who says it can't be?" You retorted.

"Hey now, kids. Keep the comms clear of all that flirting," Sam said over your earpieces.

"Roger," there was an uncomfortable beat of silence. Bucky’s eye flinched but he tried to hide it by scratching at his beard. "I- err… meant, copy."

"Two minutes until contact and then we breach their hull," Bucky informed Sam. "Going radio silent."

"You know what to do if you need back up," Sam said before the comms went radio silent.

"You ready, doll?" Bucky asked.

You stretched your phalanges and smirked like a cocky son-of-a-bitch, "For anything!"

You stretched out your hand for a fist bump. Bucky hesitated for a moment, face showing clear confusion.

"I know Sam taught you how to do a fist bump, Buck. It's his second most favourite way to greet people, second only to high fives," you pointed out.

Bucky sighed and connected his fist to yours.

"See, was that so hard?" You mocked him.

"Excruciatingly," Bucky admitted freely. He hid his smile by letting his hair fall over the half of his face where his lip curled upwards.

You smiled knowing he wasn't as subtle as he liked to think he was.

"Coming up on the hull," You informed him.

"You know what to do."

You nodded then used your abilities to create a vacuum bubble next to where the ships lasers were cutting a hole through the metal so the submarine didn't depressurise. You put on your helmet over your pressure suit and once the door was opened, the both of you glided across the vacuum stream like astronauts in space.

Once inside the submarine, Bucky turned on the force field generator to block the new hole and you closed the vacuum. You both took off your pressure suits before heading for the control room. All the while staying close to Bucky's six.

After tactfully disarming and dealing with several very angry men with guns, Bucky and you finally reached the control room.

"Sam, we're in the control room," Bucky disabled radio silence.

"What is all this?" You asked as you spun around to get a good look at the room.

There were several sensory deprivation tanks filled with green looking water hooked up to a long row of computers that were running a program in the background. In all the tanks were naked bodies, people, floating about seemingly in a deep sleep. Their vitals monitored by EEG and EKG machines. At the bottom corner of each monitor was a name and a blinking notification saying: _Synchronisation to Framework at 95%_

"It's a lab," Bucky said coldly. "Some sort of bio-mechanical experiment."

You peered at the words scrolling through the monitors catching sigh of a word that seemed familiar, "Ever heard of the _Framework_?"

"It sounds familiar, I just can't place it."

"What do you think happens once that loading bar reads a 100?" You pointed at one of the monitors.

Bucky frowned, "I'd rather not find out. Let's see if there's a way to shut this down."

"Good idea," you pulled up a chair and tried to bypass the security measures when an anti-tamper device got set off.

Bucky, having quicker reflexes than yours, heard the click, reached for you and pulled you to the floor, his body covering yours as one of the computers sparked in a miniature explosion.

When he assessed it was safe to get up, he helped you off the floor and cautioned with fear widened eyes, "Exercise more caution, _please_."

"Let's try that again," you dusted off the pieces of plastic and soldered metal wiring from your jacket.

"Safely," he urged.

You disabled the second anti-tamper device and logged into the computers, your satellite key allowing you to siphon data. However, you didn't have enough time to stop the countdown and as soon as the monitors read 100% each of the bodies in the tank flat-lined. The bodies dying out from a lethal injection of a beta-blocker.

"No, no, no!" You tapped at the keyboard.

Bucky watched on in horror as each tank went dead like a set of unstoppable dominoes.

"It's too late," Bucky said softly. "Come on, let's try to--"

And then the room went white. A hot flash pushing you away in a great rippling effect. The metal walls of the submarine groaned as it was forced apart from the inside, water flooding into the room, causing everything to spark.

Your body was rushed by the powerful waves into the wall, and your head crashed painfully against it, knocking you out. 

* * *

Sam pulled Bucky's unconscious body out of the water and onto the shore, his GPS sewn into his tactical suit flashing red as a subtle beeping noise sounded out.

Sam cut off Bucky's bulletproof vest with his army knife, but that didn't help, Bucky still wasn't breathing. He checked for the feeling of air coming from Bucy’s nostrils. Nothing. Then for a pulse. It was there, but just barely.

Sam began to frantically administer CPR, "Come on you Tin-can! Don't give up on me!"

After 30 seconds, Sam took out a small metal device and placed it on his palm before connecting it to Bucky's chest, shocking him with volts of electricity.

Bucky gasped for air, "Gaahhhh!"

He looked around frantically, confused for a second. He gripped Sam's arms a bit too hard and shouted in a croaky, waterlogged voice, "Where is she?"

Sam looked down at the sand.

Bucky shook him harder, "Where is she? Is- is she?"

"Her vitals are still online. She's alive."

"Then why do you like someone just ran you over with a truck, Sam?" Bucky growled furiously.

"Her GPS stopped broadcasting. We think whoever blew up the submarine took her with them."

Bucky pounded his fist in the sand repeatedly, "No! No, no, no, no..."

You gasped awake from your nightmare, surprised to find your bedding in one piece. Your lack of clothing was slightly alarming.

The sound of water cascading out of the showerhead filled the room. You peaked through the open door, but the steam was obscuring the body of whoever was in there.

Your skull felt like it was about to split in two.

"It felt so real," you braced the side of your head where a headache was forming.

"Sweetheart, you awake?" A familiar voice called out from the shower.

Unsure of what to say, you played along. "Y-yeah!"

"Why don't you come join me?" the man asked.

The cold feel of metal on your left finger made you look closer at your hand. There on your ring finger was a platinum wedding ring, a large clear diamond shining with the morning light.

Something about the ring on your finger felt odd. You were about to take it off, examine it closer, when a second migraine hammered at your temples.

**Framework >Data Banks> Memories> Memories synchronised: 45%**

_Flashes of a night in Rome raced through your mind. The colosseum, the smell of rain, a man on one knee. The same voice from the shower speaking out nervously: "Will you marry me?" A red, velvet box. A sparkling ring. A deep inhale of breath. "Yes, yes! A thousand times yes!"_

_  
_

"Ugh," you groaned as you stood to grab your painkillers from your medicine drawer.

On the flat surface of your dresser you saw a framed wedding photo: You and a man who looked eerily like Steve, only his eyes were colder and his hair was darker- less blond and more dusty. Light reflected off the glass and shone directly in your eye, triggering a second hammering pain against your cranium.

**Framework >Data Banks> Memories> Memories synchronised: 45%**

_The memory of your wedding day coming back to you as clear as day. Your hands held affectionately in Steve’s as he slid the ring onto your finger and you smiled through the veil at your fiancé-soon-to-be-husband. Your cheeks dusted with makeup and sore from all your non-stop smiling._

_  
_

You gripped the dresser, dropping the leather wallet that was placed there. You waited for the pain to pass before you bent down to pick it up. Curiously, not recognising the wallet, you opened it. Turns out it wasn't a wallet at all but a badge. Your picture showed you with short-cropped hair and a stern scowl. Your name printed as 'Y/N Rodgers'. A watermark of a six tentacle skull caused the ink that spelt out ‘ _HYDRA’_ to bleed a little.

**Framework >Data Banks> Memories> Memories synchronised: 48%**

_Suddenly, you remembered the day you had graduated from the Hydra academy. Steve dressed in his official uniform, red and black with the Hydra sigil printed on his chest. You had blushed when he had commended you on being valedictorian. Your hand shaking his on a stage in front of thousands of glaring classmates, faces plastered with fake smiles. A wedding band on Steve's finger but none on yours. His wife standing together with the rest of the honorary alumni. That was the first day you met the love of your life._

The sound of rushing water stopped and the temperature in the room started to drop.

"Hey, Y/N," Steve startled you from your reminiscing.

"Yes, babe?" You looked over at his equally naked body.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"N-no, sorry. I have a hell of a headache this morning."

"More nightmares again?" He asked.

You nodded your head adamantly.

Steve sighed, disappointment on his face. "We talked about this, Y/N. You have to make sure you take your meds."

He handed you a pill bottle from the open drawer.

Your mouth gaped open when you read the label, "These are anti-psychotics."

"The doctor assured us it won't hurt our chances, just take them so I don't have to spend all day worrying you'll get another migraine while at work," He kissed your throbbing temple. "I draw my limit at one injury in the field at the expense of your reluctance to stay on the regimen."

Steve's thumb graced the spot below your breast where a fresh stitch was beginning to heal. The skin still purple and deep red from trauma.

"I don't remember getting this?" Your hand touched the raw skin.

"Doc said memory loss is normal." He made his way back into the bathroom.

You nodded, feeling guilty for making him worry. You popped two pills and swallowed dry. Then all of a sudden a word he used earlier made you ask: "Babe, what did you mean by 'hurt our chances'?"

Steve walked back into the room, toothbrush tucked in his cheek as he stared at you as though you'd said something unbelievable, "For a baby. Remember, we agreed that after the divorce was finalised, and once Sarah was old enough, we'd try."

"Divorce?"

"Oh, yeah, that reminds me. My lawyer called, said to remind you to sign the paperwork he sent over."

"Paperwork?"

"Yeah, since you're going to legally become Sarah's guardian."

You frowned, unable to remember. Your migraine ebbing away into a mild headache since you took the pills.

Steve placed his palm on your forehead as if checking for a fever, "Wow, I haven't seen you have such a bad episode since Budapest."

"I'm sorry, I just need a bath and some breakfast," you reassured him.

Steve swooped you off your feet as he carried you to the bathroom, "How about a massage?"

You giggled at his spontaneity, "You just got out the shower."

"Doesn't mean I can't get dirty all over again," he said passionately as he placed a kiss on his lips, his beard tickling you.

**Framework >Data Banks> Memories> Memories synchronised: 50%**


	2. Doppelgangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Just to clear up any confusion, in the Framework the blip and Thanos’s undertaking never happened. Civil War was between Hydra and what was left of Avengers/Shield and the Sokovia Accords weren’t just about registration but an official order branding Shield as terrorists and reinstating the Winter Soldier Program- it passed. Also, Clint has always been Ronin, Hawkeye doesn’t exist in the framework.  
>  **Warnings:** This chapter contains depictions and mentions of cheating, has drug use, language, slight NSFW and some angst. _It’s a dark series, expect a darker take._  
> 

**PART TWO: DOPPELGANGERS**

**~Avengers Compound**

"Grrrrrhh!" Bucky flipped the table in a burning fury.

Wanda and Sam looked on at a loss, feeling completely helpless.

"Hey, Bucky try and calm down," Sam said softly.

"How am I supposed to stay calm when she's out there, helpless and alone, knowing it's all my fault?" Bucky shouted.

Wanda took a small step forward, "Bucky, there's no way you could ha--"

"I'm her partner Wanda. We are supposed to keep each other safe! She isn't here right now and it's my fault!" Bucky bit back.

Wanda folded her trembling hands under her poncho as she took a step back, her eyes landing on the cup Y/N had drunk tea from a few hours earlier. Her eyes were sad but lit with fury.

"You think you're the only one who feels responsible? If I hadn’t been so afraid to get on that damned jet, maybe none of this would have happened!"

Wanda's words stung at everyone in the room, making them all flinch at her sudden outburst. The red mist that accompanied her abilities snaked around her form.

Sam unfolded his hands and held them out to try and calm his companions, "Look, let’s all take a breath. We all care about Y/N. We're all worried. But that don't change the fact that all we can do is wait until we get a ping on her location. Fighting isn’t goin’ to change that. Neither will flippin’ furniture."

Bucky let out another guttural shout and connected his non-metal fist into the wall. When his knuckles removed themselves, they were bloodied and the skin was serrated by the shattered wall plaster.

"We don't have time to wait," Bucky said hoarsely. "Those people we found in the submarine. They all flat-lined once whatever that experiment they were part of was completed. If they're doing the same thing to her--"

Bucky slumped to the ground, his head hanging low between his knees as his hands trembled against fists full of hair.

"Screw this!" Wanda stormed out of the room.

"Wanda, where are you going?" Sam asked.

"It'll be a cold day in hell before I lose another person I care about," she said with a vicious tone. "I'm not gonna sit around here and feel sorry for myself. I'm going to talk to someone who actually _can_ help me!"

Then she disappeared, flying out in a brilliant red streak.

Sam sighed, the weight of leading the team was heavier than he was initially prepared for. He felt just as helpless as everyone else right now. If he couldn't be the leader they needed right now, the least he could be was a compassionate shoulder to lean on.

Sam sat down next to Bucky, at first all that filled the room was this perpetual feeling of nothingness- a distinct absence of sound beside ragged breathing and tree branches tapping on plated glass from the strong howling wind. It was almost as though the wind had adapted to their moods, angry, afraid and confused. Then, after a few minutes passed, Bucky spoke with a shaky voice.

"You were right, Sam."

"About?"

"I kept stalling abut asking Y/N to marry me because... I was afraid."

Sam rose his eyebrows in disbelief, "Were you afraid she'd say no? Because, I can tell you now, we can all see how much she loves you. There's no way she'd say no."

Bucky ran a rand through his hair as he looked up at the memorial portrait of Steve dressed in his first Captain America suit. Next to it were portraits of Tony and Nat and Vision. All their faces smiling and proud. Even though it was a way of commemorating all they'd done, of honouring those who fell, Bucky couldn't help but feel their smiles were mocking him right now.

"It's not that," Bucky said. "I was afraid she'd say yes. How fucked up is that?"

Sam let out a deep breath, "Actually, it ain't that fucked up."

"I just couldn't shake the feeling that if I kept putting off asking her, then I could somehow stop this fucked up world we live in from finding some way to ruin one of the last few good things I have left."

“Fucked up world, huh?” Sam's eyes fell on the wall of portraits instinctively, a bitter taste forming in his mouth. "I get it. People like us, we get accustomed to a certain degree of loss. After a while we begin to anticipate it."

Bucky’s head fell back onto the wall with a light thud, "Yeah, that's round about it. Guess you and I aren't so different, Bird-man."

"Listen, don't take this to mean I want you to buy me matchin' friendship bracelets or braid each other’s hair but…" Sam's fist tapped Bucky's right arm, nudging the frozen stiff soldier. "If you need to talk to someone, once all this is over, I know someone who can help."

Sam's sincere words caused Bucky to swallow loudly. He hated feeling vulnerable. Despite Shuri's great work at undoing what Hydra had done to his fractured mind, he still had a lot of their training ingrained in him. He was trained to be a lone wolf and despite how hard he tried to let people in, it was still something he struggled with. Perhaps that was an old habit he needed to change.

"Thanks, Sam. I might just take you up on that."

"Good, now get some rest. You aren't no good to me or Y/N if you burn yourself out before we get a lock on her co-ordinates."

Bucky sighed, "Alright. You gonna go after Wanda?"

Sam thought on Bucky's question for a moment, "With her firepower, I think she can handle herself."

Bucky groaned as he picked himself off the floor and offered Sam a hand, "That's not what I meant."

Sam grumbled as he dusted his sweatpants once off the floor, "I know. She's angry. I think all this has brought back a lot of pain she's been keepin’ buried. I think, despite how bad the circumstances are, she needs to have an outlet for all that anger. She needs to burnout."

Sam glanced over at the portrait of Vision for a brief pause and then back at Steve's, doubt clouding his usually clear eyes. "Until then..."

Bucky placed his hand on Sam's shoulders, "You're doing proud by him. Don't doubt that. It's a heavy mantle to carry. Steve left behind big shoes to fill. You're a good leader, it just takes time. An adjustment period."

Sam chuckled wistfully and patted Bucky's hand on his shoulder, "Yeah, thanks Tin-can."

Bucky hummed something reassuring but his eyes were still dark, they made him look lonelier than he probably felt. A part of him still found solace in seclusion and that part of him wanted to be alone with his feelings.

Bucky left the room, his slumped shoulders informing Sam of his state of mind despite his attempts to try and act as though he now had things under control.

Sam looked up at Steve's portrait one more time, "We're a mess without you man."

**~Elsewhere**

The sound of girls playing in the back yard softened Wanda's mood slightly as she approached the wooden porch. The childish laughter and squeals reminded her of Pietro as a young, energetic boy.

Ever since she lost Vision, Wanda had been thinking about Pietro more and more. There was a darkness looming over her and the only time she felt somewhat like herself was during the small moments she and Y/N would share together. The red hue brightening her eyes fizzled out like a worn-out candle's flame.

Wanda felt heavy. Her heart threatened to sink back into sadness at the realisation that she may very well lose Y/N too.

With shaky hands, Wanda's petite, ring covered fingers rapped on the wooden door in slow repetitive stroke.

She didn't know what she was doing here, or why she had thought it a good idea, but she _was_ here and she couldn’t unring this bell.

When the door opened, Wanda's fingers fidgeted slightly as she cleared her throat -her old accent slipping out between vowels from urgency.

"I- I'm sorry to just turn up here. I should have called ahead, b- but… I need your help."

"Something's happened, hasn't it?"

Wanda nodded.

The door swung open wider, letting Wanda into the house.

**The** water waved and lapped softly against the edges of the tub, toes curled at the end of the tub as your head tilted backwards in euphoric bliss. Steve's warm chest heaved up and down behind you, your body moving with the strong motions of his chest. His hands working tantalising circles around your lower body submerged under the hot water and fizzling out bubbles. The scented candles flooded your senses, numbing the former migraine that once agitated your brain.

Steve's heated breath tickled your ear as he whispered sweet nothings, causing your fingers to wrap around his nape.

"You like that?" He increased the pressure around his fingers making you gasp and move instinctively into his touch. Water spilt over the tub and onto the floor.

"Mmmm, yes," you moaned, toes curling and uncurling.

A low rumble escaped his lips right when they found the nape of your neck and placed suckling kisses on it.

"How about we take this to the bedroom?" He rumbled lowly, desire saturating each word.

"Yessss," you strained against his surgical touch. It was as though he knew your body better than you did.

Steve manoeuvred your body so you were no longer laying above him and he stepped out of the tub, water dripping from his wet body. His muscles seemingly glistening from the light hitting the moisture dripping off him. He turned around and instantly swooped you out of the tub, marching you towards the bedroom with hooded eyes burning across your equally wet body.

* * *

The coffee maker gurgled loudly as it filled with dark coffee that probably tasted as strong as it smelled. You reached into the fridge for the jug of orange juice and closed the fridge shut with your bare foot.

Steve was dressed in a three-piece suit (minus the tie) that hugged his frame flatteringly while he read the newspaper with a half-eaten plate of pancakes. A sub-headline caught your attention. It read: ‘Silver-Blue Blur Spotted in Sokovia?’

You poured yourself a glass of orange juice and sat back down on the table, a small tablet running through the highlights of the week.

Several headlines read: ‘Hydra Seizes Stark Assets; Director Pierce Re-Instates Winter Soldier Program; The Iron Maiden's Reign of Terror Continues; Peter Parker Still Missing; Asgardian Queen Hela Threatens War; Mischief in Moldova?’

"The Iron Maiden?" You repeated, unfamiliar with the term.

Steve noticed your brow was arched in suspicion, your lips pursed in thought, small dimples forming on your cheeks.

"Hydra believes Pepper Potts is trying to recruit more anarchists into whatever remains of Shield," he said nonchalantly as he took his empty mug and refilled it with more coffee. "Our drones spotted Pietro Maximoff in Sokovia earlier this week. Which is not surprising since this is the anniversary of his sister’s death."

You shook your head, unable to reconcile what he was saying.

"Wanda's dead?" You whispered to yourself so Steve wouldn't hear you.

Another migraine pinched at the base of your skull, causing pain to shoot through your eye while you reached for the orange juice. Your vision doubled as the pain worsened and you knocked the glass over, one hand bracing against your temple as you hissed.

"Ahhggg!" You yelped.

Steve set his Hydra stamped mug on the counter and rushed to your side, cupping your face in his strong hands.

"Again?" He asked with calm eyes but a disturbed face.

"Y-yeah..." you barely managed to get the words out.

Steve rushed to the bedroom and suddenly the image of you and Wanda sitting on a couch with cups held between your fingers came to life across the room like a projection. By the stove, a man with long dark hair looked out through your window, the smell of burning toast tickling your nostrils. The morning light obscuring his reflection.

You glanced down at your ring and felt an insurmountable measure of guilt, when you looked back up the projections vanished, leaving an ashed taste in your mouth. Your thumb kept rotating your ring like a nervous tick, your eyes frantically flickering from the couch to the stove in search of the ghosts you had just seen.

Questions that couldn't be answered screamed inside you as you started to hyperventilate. Why were you and the Scarlett Witch acting like buddies? Who was the man with the blue and gold-tinted metal arm? Why did all this feel more real than the furniture you were sat on? Why was Steve taking so damn, fucking long to get your pills?

"What is going on?" You said in fear, unable to trust your own mind.

As if on cue, Steve came back out with your pill bottle, one small pill already placed on his outstretched palm. You devoured it thankfully and let out an appreciative sigh as Steve kissed your numbing temples.

Steve pulled out his phone and started dialling.

"What are you doing?"

Steve looked at you oddly, "I'm taking the day off, my wife isn't at her best."

You held up your hand to stop him, "Nonsense, your work is more important."

"Hey," he hushed you as he caressed your cheek, "Nothing is more important to me than you and Sarah. Got it?"

You nodded.

"While I disappoint Pierce for the third time this week, why don't you get dressed and sign those papers we talked about. They're in my study."

You nodded again and made your way, sluggishly, towards the bedroom. Steve's muffled words growing lower and lower until you couldn't hear them all together.

* * *

" _Do you consent to hereby becoming the legal guardian of one Sarah Carter-Rogers?_ " You mouthed out the question on the form.

You ticked the box yes and signed your name on the dotted line as you had done on countless other legal forms.

"Hey sweetheart, can you help me with my tie?" Steve walked in.

"Sure," you sat up from his desk and fastened his tie.

Steve peered over your shoulder, a proud smile creeping over his face when he realised you'd signed the papers.

"Huh," his smiled faltered ever so slightly. "You used your maiden name."

You were surprised by that, "I could have sworn-" you turned to look at the signature, and lo and behold, Steve was right. "Old habits, I guess."

"Hey," Steve brought your eyes to look into his. "Marriage has an adjustment period, and with your migraines, it's easy for your wires to get crossed. Don't worry."

He kissed your forehead affectionately before wrapping you safely in his arms.

"Now come on Mrs Rogers, Sharon's weekend is over. Let's go pick up our daughter," he said with an enthusiastic smile.

* * *

The Rolls-Royce pulled up into a small driveway leading up to a moderately sized townhouse. Toy's littered the lawn and an unopened newspaper was still lying on top of an unkempt shrubbery bush, dewdrops from the morning's cold air precipitated over the plastic sheet.

Steve stepped out the car, his hand held out for you as you scooched over the leather seats and took hold of his strong hand.

Out of the house burst a young blonde-haired girl no taller than your knee. Her pink backpack made rattling noises as it swayed from one side to the other with her running motions. Behind her, a tired-looking Sharon walked out of the house, her hair cropped short to the point you barely recognised her. Her cardigan pullover wrapped defensively around her thinning frame.

"Huh..." you squinted your eyes, unfamiliar with Sharon's new look.

"What is it?" Steve asked.

"Nothing, I guess I'm just used to seeing her with longer hair," you revealed.

Steve laughed inaudibly as he crouched down waiting for his daughter to crash into him.

"Sarah, honey don't run!" Sharon shouted after her.

Sarah ignored her mother's words and jumped straight into Steve's outreaching arms, "Daddy!"

"Hey, June-bug!" Steve picked her up into a spinning hug.

You watched Steve lighten up as soon as he scooped his little girl into his arms, Sarah's giggling making the morning seem warmer than it was. In the distance, you noticed Sharon stare menacing daggers at you. You flinched and deflected your gaze to the assorted toys getting soaked from the ticking sprinklers.

A throbbing sensation sent gooseflesh up the nape of your neck as a particularly sour memory returned to the forefront of your thoughts.

**Framework >Data Banks> Memories> Memories synchronised: 55%** _  
_

_Sharon looked worse for wear. Her eyes were puffy with dark circles making themselves at home on her face. Her hair tied up in an unkempt greasy bun. Nail edges bitten from anxiety. She stood on your apartment’s welcome mat, the look of horror pulling her mouth into an O shape as she glanced between you and Steve -a look of realisation. Steve used his large frame to shield your partially clothed body. Uneasy silence like trudging through mud. A few seconds later, the pizza delivery guy walked off the elevator and headed towards the ajar apartment door with a distraught woman staring at the occupants inside._

You gripped the boot of the car to keep yourself steady. This memory didn't hurt as much as the others. You figured the medication was finally working.

Steve noticed your small movement and set Sarah down to rub your back in slow circles. You nodded your head to signal that you were okay. Sarah hugged your leg causing you to bend down and greet her properly.

"Hey, June-bug, how was the weekend?"

"It was good, we went to a big, big farm and saw horsies," Sarah had a hard time enunciating some of her words, making them sound incomplete.

"Wow! Horsies!" You gasped in an exaggerated tone causing Sarah's bubbly laughter to ripple out in its regular high pitch. You felt your spirits lift from that simple act.

Steve stroked Sarah's head while he spoke to you, keeping her out of earshot. "Hey, I'm gonna go talk to Sharon, tell her the paperwork’s been finalised."

“Good luck,” You blew air out of your mouth and cocked your head to the side, eyebrows rising in acknowledgement of that uneasy task. You stroked Steve's chest, "I'll strap little June-bug here into the car seat."

Steve walked off towards Sharon while you walked around the car with Sarah holding your hand.

When you fastened her into the child seat, Sarah pulled out a pine cone and handed it to you.

"Look what I found!"

“Wow! A pinecone, for me? Thank you, June-bug!”” You accepted the small pinecone. There weren’t many conifer trees nearby for at least a few miles out of the city. Sharon must have taken her far out of the city. "Huh, how far was this farm?"

Sarah's arms spread far apart as she sing-songed, "Faaaaaaaaar."

Without thinking, you pocketed the pinecone and glanced out the tinted window to look for Steve. He and Sharon were having a heated discussion, but they both tried to make everything appear normal.

Sarah glanced over, her smile falling, "Mommy and daddy fighting again."

You tapped Sarah's little button nose, "No they aren't fighting, they're just..." you glanced at Sharon. She was more animated in her gestures than before, pointing and frowning at the car. Steve held one hand up, probably in a feigned efford to calm her.

Speckles filled your vision as another memory burdened your peripheral.

**Framework >Data Banks> Memories> Memories synchronised: 58%**

_Sharon lobbed something glass at Steve's head. He ducked as it shattered on the wall. Your throat had all but glued shut, you didn't have the nerve to get a word in. "Homewrecker!" rang through your small apartment. “Don’t act like things were fine. We haven’t been fine in a long time.” Steve words were cold. “I’m not the one who just got caught with his pants down! How old is she anyway?”  
_

When the pain subsided and your vision cleared, Steve was already sliding into the car. His jaw clenching but his voice soft as he turned to Sarah with a big smile, "Alright, who's ready for our day at the park?"

Sarah smiled but it wasn’t as animated as before, “Picnic!”

Steve laced his fingers into yours, the tension from his unpleasant conversation making his grip feel slightly uncomfortable. You didn’t say anything though.

* * *

Steve tossed a giddy Sarah up into the air a few dozen times while you laid out the picnic basket. The park had a few patrols passing through- peacekeepers were a mandatory presence since the Accords branded Shield as terrorists. A few other families were out too. You tried to get in the same fun spirit as Steve and Sarah, but something about how dishevelled Sharon looked haunted you. You began to imagine how easy everything could slip away. How easy you could end up like Sharon. Guilt clawed its way back through you.

When Steve sat down next to you, he placed a kiss on your head and noticed you didn't reciprocate with your signature smile.

"You okay?" He asked.

You kept your eyes on a trail of ants marching towards an open lunch box with grapes, "Are you happy? Despite everything we went through… everything we did?"

Steve got tense, his eyes falling on Sarah with what seemed to be shame. "I'm not going to act like it's been a fairy-tale. People rarely feel complete, especially in our world, given what we do. I was content before you came along. Sometimes being content isn’t enough, you reminded me of what was possible.”

Steve looked back at you, his face lit up as he brought your finger to his lips for a loving kiss, “And, yes, despite everything, I am happy."

You glanced down at your wedding ring, your frown up turning into a numb smile.

Steve drew you in for a proper kiss and all your worries ebbed away. His large, calloused hands sliding along your folded thighs, a guttural moan escaping his throat as you laughed at his hungry kisses.

“We’re in public, Steve...” you pretended to be embarrassed by his publicly affectionate actions, but truthfully the only time things made sense was when he kissed you.

“That’s never bothered you before,” he said with a raspy voice. Then Sarah’s laughter rippled outward from a few paces away, her form looking much smaller from this distance as she blew bubbles out of a small looped plastic wand. Steve groaned with displeasure, “But I suppose you’re right.”

You licked your lips and straightened your posture before feeding Steve a grape.

Suddenly both your cell phones beeped.

You both groaned from the impending disruption of your day off.

Steve looked at his phone and scrolled through a long docket before swearing under his breath.

"They need us back in the field," he said through a clenched jaw. He wasn't amused with the last-minute work call.

Your eyes widened when you read through your own docket, "They've managed to trace the Iron Maiden back to her hideout."

"Call the babysitter would you, I'll go get Sarah."

Steve walked over to Sarah and lifted her onto his shoulders.

You sighed, dialling the number of the babysitter, "So much for my day off."

* * *

The dark-tinted tactical SUV raced passed several blocks. You were suited up and fastening on your gloves. Your partner Clint sat beside you, checking the edges of his katana. He had yet to fully fasten on his arm-guards leaving the identical bullet hole scars on his palms exposed. There was also a matching sized hole drilled through the katana’s grip, some of the metal bent outward jaggedly.

Like clockwork, the memory attached to those scars rung through your head. You squinted your eyes shut for a moment.

**Framework >Data Banks> Memories> Memories synchronised: 62%**

_A panorama of open country raced nauseatingly across the speeding car's window. A ‘Welcome to Budapest’ sign on the highway. An ambush. The snipers nest releasing soviet made hollow-point bullets into metal car doors. Clint's sword sliced diagonally across a red-haired woman’s face. A single bullet ripping through Clint's hands which were griped on his sword for the finishing blow. A scream, a painful cry, a worried shout. You tackled your partner to the ground. The red-haired woman making a run for it. Steve throwing his shield. The metal impacting with a spine so intensely it crushed the spinal cord. Defector Maria Hill laying paralysed from the waist down. A shield emblem printed on her right jacket pocket. Clint's hands trembling as you wrap them in bandages, his face contorted in anger as he failed to move his fingers. “She better pray we never cross paths again!”  
_

"Hey, you good partner?" Clint placed his hand on your back, having noticed your discomfort.

"Bad week is all," you reassured him as you opened your eyes. “You ever going to repair the hilt on that? It can’t be comfortable to hold with the metal bending out like that.”

Clint chuckled and made a fist rigidly with both his hands, one at a time. When they opened up again, several of his fingers moved like iced joints. A painful sneer enlarging his nostrils.

"Are you okay?" You asked him.

Clint fastened on his gloves, "Just cramps. How's lover boy?"

"Always with the deflecting,” You shook your head. “He's… been on edge about something lately. I just feel like something's not… right."

Clint sheathed his sword and pulled his mask out from under his seat, "Maybe it's because you chose not to go on your honeymoon. He is old fashioned after all. Probably all that pent up sexual tension turning into plain tension."

Clint laughed at his jab, you punched his midrib hard.

"Shut up," You looked over the mission brief one more time and then checked your guns. "If this really is the Iron-Maiden's hideout, Romanoff might be there..."

Clint turned stiff at the mention of Natasha's name. His fist-clenching so tight it strained against his leather gloves.

"Good," he said menacingly as he fastened on his mask.

The black SUV's rolled up in an old brick house neighbourhood. You placed your comms unit in your ear and unholstered your gun.

"Look alive people, time to storm a castle." 

You and Clint exchanged a fist bump, the simple action triggered a searing pain to braze through your mind like a cheese grater. You gasped, ground your molars together and banged your head against the leather seats of the SUV. The memory wasn't clear, it was hazy like a half-forgotten dream. An image of a man with long hair, lips pulled in a reluctant smile, flickered in your mind like a loose light fixture. You couldn't see past his top lip, but the thought of him filled you with something you hadn't felt in a long time: safe.

The headache subsided almost as quickly as it came, you blinked several times.

"You good?" Clint asked once more, his serious tone lacerating through you.

You nodded, took a breath and hopped out of the car. Gun out of its holster, you took up tactical positions and stormed the old brick apartment complex in strategic waves of intimidating force. The sound of helicopter blades slicing through the air above drew your attention. Steve was seated inside, fully geared and ready to jump onto the roof.

Over the comms, you heard Clint say, "One with the least take down numbers buys the first round at McCredie’s."

"You're on!" You challenged.

“Easy there, Mrs Rogers,” Steve said cooly. “We know that if you lose this bet, you’re just gonna make me buy the round.”

“Better make sure to send all the stragglers my way then, honey.”

Clint grappled to a high floor, “Hey that’s cheating.”

The sound of Steve bursting through a window filled the comms, “No, that’s just a perk of being married to me.”

You chuckled as you fired off several shots at the enemy.


	3. Who the Fuck is Bucky?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Okay so during _Civil War_ (which I’m using as a timeline building block where Hydra wiped out what was left of Shield’s hero’s ) Iron Man vs Cap did happen but with a twist. _Vision_ exists in the Framework but his name is ** _Spectre_** and [he looks like the original version from the comics](http://www.zimbio.com/%27Avengers+Infinity+War%27+Easter+Eggs+And+References/articles/tjhQX2lvhIm/White+Vision). Also, in advance, I’m sorry, but I did say shit was gonna get dark. Also, I may do a Framework Avengers vs Hydra spin off.  
>  **Note:**  
>  _To clear up any confusion, everything in **Italics** happened in the past: memories, CCTV footage, videos etc._  
> 

**PART THREE: WHO THE FUCK IS BUCKY?**

"Switch weapons to non-lethal, we want them alive for questioning. Concussive rounds only!" You relayed your orders to your men.

As you advanced into the building, you heard a body thud onto a car's roof from the levels above.

"One of ours?" You asked into the comms.

"That's a negative," Clint relayed with a cocky tone as another body crashed on top of another car's roof.

"Barton, I said non-lethal," you chastised.

Barton sighed, "Guy fell out a three-story window, the SUV broke his fall, he isn't dead. Look I can see him now, his fingers are twitching."

"Yeah it's called muscle spasms, corpses do that too!" You shot back.

"Slow down on the property damage, Barton. You have swords, use them!" Steve barked orders at your partner's reckless antics. The sound of people screaming followed suit.

"I told you, you should have gone on your damned honeymoon!" Clint said in an exasperated huff directed at you.

"Jesus, you two!" You sighed, "Keep the comms clear guys!"

You took cover beside a door as several of your men took up positions according to your hand gestures. You crouched down, gave the go signal and laid down cover fire as they advanced into the building.

You took down three people, all dressed in old Shield gear.

"Three down, ground floor is clear," you chimed in as you tapped on the Hydra agent's shoulder in front of you, signalling for him to take his men and ascend the stairs.

"Three? Someone's slacking" You could all but picture Clint's shit-eating grin.

There was a low rumble coursing through the building making furniture and light fixtures shake. Just then Clint's comms were filled with static before coming online again

"Barton you good?" you asked in a panic.

After some coughing and a few grunts, he replied sheepishly, "Yeah, yeah, don't mother-hen, it's not endearing. It was a fucking EMP, one of your grunts triggered a tripwire."

"Shit," you cursed, signalling for your men to spread out and keep an eye out. "Is he alright?"

Barton sneered, "Nah, the blast knocked him clear, he fell three stories directly onto concrete. Idiots dead."

"Top floor is clear," Steve said. "Moving down. Stay alert, I don't want any more casualties. Paperwork's a bitch!"

"Copy," both you and Clint said at the same time.

"Hey, Barton, be care--"

"Yeah, yeah. This isn't my first rodeo partner," Clint chuckled. Just then his comms started to break up. "I- comi- up- o-" a metallic screech bombarded your eardrums, everyone clenched from discomfort. "Got... eyes on!"

"Barton, repeat, you're breaking up!" You shouted as you raced for the stairs, shooting and disarming several enemies along the way. "Barton!"

As soon as your hand touched the railing, a whole section of the building caved in. You ducked away from the falling debris that crushed several of your men. Blood and concrete dust was all you could see as a ringing noise punctured your ear.

You coughed a few times, whacking the dust away from your face. You covered your nose with your elbow slung around your face. When the dust cleared, you saw the aftermath of a controlled EID having gone off. A section of the floor above was now a pile of rubble at your feet.

"Y/N! Can- y- hea--" Steve's comms were muddled, breaking out between words.

You adjusted your comms until it became as clear as a whistle again.

"Y/N? Anyone? Do you copy? What's the sit-rep?" Steve barked angrily.

"It's Y/N, I copy."

"Thank heavens!" Steve let out a breath. "The fuck just happened?"

"EID. Controlled burst. Half the third floor caved in," you informed him as you carefully made your way up solo. "I'm going to look for Barton."

"Copy. I'm authorising deadly force. I'm done playing nice!" Steve said menacingly as the sound of bullets hailing down echoed over the comms. And soon, chaos ensued. Gunfire, flash grenades, screams and blood sprays. The building complex transformed into a battle zone.

When you came around a corner obstructed by some rubble, you heard some faint coughs followed by the sound of strained groans.

"Barton that you?"

"About fucking time, my leg is pinned," Barton's words slipped passed the obstructing debris.

"I'll have to set a charge to clear the rubble before I can get to you."

"Shit," Clint said in a tone that informed you he was contemplating something. "Forget it, go after her."

"Her?" When the question came out, a plasma charge burned a hole through the adjacent wall, missing your nose by an inch. With wide eyes, you ducked, rolled and shot at the direction the charge came from. Standing in a patched up blue, silver and red suit of armour was the Iron Maiden. "Oh, _her_."

You fired off several shots, radioing in as you advanced towards the metal suited woman: "Barton needs assistance on the fourth floor. I've got sights on the Iron Maiden."

"That's a copy. HQ just informed me Spectre is inbound. Let's wrap this up before that can-opener gets credit for another one of our missions," Steve replied as wind zipped over his comms. He was moving fast.

"I hate that fucking clank!" You spit as you charged into the next room, emptying your clip and reloading with the magazine that held electro-rounds.

The Iron Maiden shot off plasma beam after beam, at one point using a continuous stream to all but cut through the entire room.

"Arrrgh!" The beam singed your cheek. You rolled and shot at her chest in a tight six-shot formation. The suit overloaded and dropped to the ground in a loud clanking sound. The armour opened up to reveal no one inside. It was on auto-pilot. "The suit was a distraction! There's equipment up ahead, computers. I think I see a command centre, I'm going in."

"Shit!" Steve cursed, "Stand down. Wait for backup. Y/N, did you hear wha--"

As soon as you entered the metal-encased room, your comms stopped broadcasting. The static nearly deafened you, forcing you to throw your ear-piece on the ground.

You stalked into the room quietly. A makeshift command centre had been set up. Computers, radios and weapons crates filled the room. There were several display cases housing mechanical suits patched together with mismatching parts labelled Mark XLIX. A large unopened metal case had the words: 'Rescue, MK-1616,' printed on it. In smaller font below that was an inscription: _'To my love, Pepper. In case I need a rescue.'_

A hot flash of pain ripped through your shoulder followed by the sound of a gunshot. You sucked in air before dropping to the ground and firing two shots. One slug hit the wall. The other hit a strawberry blonde woman above the navel.

Pepper gasped and braced her stomach with all eight fingers, a look of defeat on her face as the gun hit the floor. She brought a bloody hand to hit a wall panel, sealing the panic room shut.

You stood from the floor slowly, "Virginia 'Pepper' Potts, as an agent of Hydra, and for the protection of the people, I hereby place you under arrest."

You hobbled over to her, cuffs in one hand, gun in the other.

Pepper coughed weakly, a grim smile on her face, "Just get it over with and kill me. You people have already taken the one person I ever cared about." Her eyes fell on a half singed photo of her and Tony.

"Tony Stark died of his own ignorance when he blew up that airport," you said.

Pepper rolled her eyes, "You're the ignorant one, letting Hydra brainwash you like the sheep you are." She spat blood onto the floor. "The explosion was a cover-up."

You clicked your tongue at her nonsensical story, "Shield sympathisers and your love of propaganda. You can drop the charade, your days of terror are over."

You cuffed her hands together and pulled out a compression bandage and applied it to her stomach roughly.

"Hhnnggg..." she gurgled and spat more blood, laughing afterwards with blood-stained teeth. "See for yourself." Her head nudged towards a computer with a video kept on pause.

You got back up, eyes locked on the computer, uncertain of how to proceed.

Banging emanated off the metal door that kept you trapped inside. You looked down at Pepper, her eyes fixed on the engraving written on the metal crate.

"I say you have 30 seconds before they break through. Tick-tock, the truth waits for no one," she bit her lip with a sharp inhale as blood trickled through the bandage.

"Fuck!" You cursed yourself as curiosity got the better of you.

You placed your gun on the table, pressed the enter key on the keyboard and slapped on a compression bandage on your shoulder, eyes fixed on the cam quality recording.

* * *

_Tony crashed through two parking garage columns, debris almost burying his suit._

_"Auxiliary power failing, boss." Friday's voice came off as a silent lament for what was about to unfold._

_"I know," Tony said solemnly. "Do me a favour and call Pepper would ya?" He struggled to fly on one working leg, jet engines sputtering like a choking tail pipe._

_“Propulsion systems going offline, sir.”_

_“Just focus on calling Pepper!”_

_"Calling Pepper Potts," Friday relayed as Steve grabbed hold of Tony's leg and yanked him back down into the ground._

_"Gahh!" Tony gasped as the metal suit grew heavy and limp._

_Steve brought his shield to bear with all his strength, it separated the metal case protecting Tony's chest, imbedding itself inside._

_Tony coughed as the sound of ringing filled his earpiece, "Come on, Pep." He prayed for her to pick up._

_"I'm sorry boss, it’s gone straight to voicemail," Friday said calmly._

_Steve removed his shield from Tony's chest only to use it as though it were a shovel digging up dry gravel, hammering at the suits power core until its lights began to flicker._

_At the final strike, the sound of his ribs crushing inwards let out a sickly popping noise._

_Tony removed his helmet, blood trickling down his nose, one eye bloodshot. He laughed ironically after the beating._

_"I can't believe my father ever admired you!" Tony struggled to breathe as his airways constricted. "You were supposed to be our symbol of hope. A beacon for justice. Now look at you, nothing but Hydra's lapdog ever since they fished you out of the ocean."_

_Steve's head fell to look down at Tony's defeated body. A devilish smirk crossed his lips as he took a knee to whisper at Tony, "Tell me, Tony, with all that money, all that brainpower, did you ever figure out who murdered your parents?"_

_A smile crept over Steve's face as Tony struggled to move his hands, the metal weighing him down._

_"I'll kill you!" Tony's voice cracked._

_Steve laughed and stood up, eyes locked at something in the distance. "You, kill me? No. But you will kill everyone still in this airport." He pulled out a detonator from his trousers, his thumb toying with the red button._

_"Is this how you envisioned your future? Is this the type of freedom you fought so hard for?" Tony asked with a patronising tone._

_"You can't have peace without order," Steve said coldly. "And I am order."_

_Steve looked up at the concrete ceilings of the half-destroyed underground parking lot, a smug expression making him appear sinister._

_"Enjoy the view," Steve walked away, the cameras unable to pick up his position anymore._

_"Boss, should I try Pepper again?" Friday asked with a hushed voice between the whirring noises of the power cell powering down._

_Tony grunted as he lay on the ground, pinned in place by his own suit of armour, "Yeah, why no--"_

_White light filled the cameras as they stopped broadcasting, an error message playing on the screen as a loud tone beeped continuously._

* * *

"No…" Your eyes went wide as a tear trickled off your chin and onto the keyboard. Your hands were shaking, knees buckling and your throat went dry. "This… this can't- this isn't--"

You didn't know what to say. The banging noises from the door being forced open eerily resembled the sound of Steve's shield banging against the Iron Man suit. You whimpered, your palm pressed forcefully against your mouth to stifle the noises. Your wedding band, still cold to the touch, still foreign to you.

Was this the man you loved? You asked yourself over and over and over again.

The metal door flew off its hinges and crushed the metal box Pepper had been staring at, her skin turned pale.

Through the doorway, the ghost coloured android, Spectre, hovered into the room. He looked at Pepper, the display of suits and then you. His head moving like it was made of rusted joints.

"Are. You. Alright. Agent?" The androids detached voice was disarming and without personality, you hated it.

You ignored the android and set your eyes on Steve, anger forcing them to shutter into half-open slits.

"Explain what the fuck I just saw!" You demanded.

Steve placed his hands on his hips and let out a disappointed huff.

Clint hobbled into the room, whistling lowly as he patted Steve's back, "Someone's in the dog house."

Steve shrugged him off and walked towards you.

"Uh-uh," you stepped back.

Steve's brows came together in a look of anger.

"Hey clank, get her out of here!" Steve pointed to Pepper, words dripping with authority. "That goes for everyone else, go secure the prisoners. Go! Get out!"

Everyone scattered out of the room as Spectre picked up Pepper gently, her smile conveying her satisfaction at the turn of events.

"Well?" You challenged Steve when it was just the two of you. "Care to explain?"

Steve noticed the bandage on your shoulder soak up with blood, "At least let me fix you up first."

"Stop trying to deflect, Steve! Explain to me why I just watched a video of you blowing up the airport in Germany! When I agreed to marry you, we swore there'd be no secrets between us!"

"It was classified!" Steve swept the computers off the table in a rageful outburst. "Compromises have to be made in our line of work. You of all people should understand that!"

"That doesn't change the fact you lied to me!"

"I never lied!"

"A lie of omission is still a lie!"

"God damn it, what do you want from me huh?" Steve's jaw clenched as he stood barely arm’s length from you. "I don't expect you to tell me every detail about your missions. For god sake, even Sharon understood that part of the job meant keeping certain things secret."

You snapped and suddenly your good hand struck across Steve's face, leaving behind a red mark and a smear of blood from your shoulder.

Steve turned to you slowly, menace in his eyes as he clenched his jaw so tight you could see his muscle working and all but picture molars cracking.

"Just this morning you regarded your ex-wife like she was the devil, and now you're using her name as an excuse to make me feel like shit for expecting you to be truthful in _our_ marriage?" You clicked your tongue. "You're fucking unbelievable sometimes."

You stormed out, leaving Steve by himself.

* * *

Your legs kept twitching as you and Barton sat on a row of chairs waiting for your turn to be debriefed -or reprimanded- by Director Pierce. His howling voice creeped through the hinge gaps of his door, fist pounding on his desk like drums of war.

Clint had his eyes closed, laying back into the chair. His leg had been cleared by the doctor as only having a few contusions. You looked at the part of his pant-legs that was cut off by scissors, deep purple bruises shown off proudly as he crossed his legs at the ankle.

"You're a lucky son of a bitch, you know that."

Clint laughed before placing his hand on your leg to keep it still, "And you're a jittery one."

"This day has gone to shit," you complained as you watched Spectre being led by several junior agents into the 8x8 lock-box Hydra kept him in.

"I'll say," Clint yawned and stretched, his jaw popping. "What was all that stuff with Steve about?"

You sighed, "Just work problems. He's been keeping certain… details about his time in Germany a secret from me."

Clint chuckled as though he was a wizened elder, "And that, young sith apprentice, is why you shouldn't marry into your work, or have kids!"

You rose a brow at him, "Unbelievable. You're married to the woman who practically runs this branch, not including Mr Constant Scowl in there!" You pointed to the name plate on Pierce's door.

"Yeah, but she's the head of public relations and I'm a spy!" He said matter-of-factly. "I don't ask her about politics and she doesn't ask me about my kill count- Oh, speaking of which, what was your count?"

Clint sat up in his chair, staring at you expectantly.

"The way the day's gone to shit, I'll gladly pick up the tab!"

"Yes!" Clint clapped his hands in triumph.

The door opened and Steve stormed out of Pierce's office, side-eyeing you before he headed for the elevator.

"I may have underestimated which one of you two is in the dog house," Clint whispered to you.

You rolled your eyes.

"Y/N, get your ass in here!" Director Pierce shouted distastefully.

You heaved a sigh and walked into the office.

"Shut the door," he ordered.

You did as he commanded.

"Mind explaining to me why you disobeyed a direct order from your superior?" Pierce demanded, the lines on his forehead plentiful as he kept his scowl intact.

"Sir?"

"Agent Rogers relayed to me that he issued the use of deadly force after an explosion went off before you decided to capture Virginia Potts."

"That is correct, sir. But I saw an opportunity to gain a valuable prisoner and I took it," you defended your actions.

"Yes, and then you and your husband had a lovers quarrel in the presence of your subordinates," he banged his fist on the table. "When Rogers was married to Carter, I thought nothing of it because she works Human Resources, but he assured me the two of you would keep level heads while in the field."

"With all due respect, sir--"

Pierce stood from his seat and pointed at you, "Do not interrupt me when I'm talking!" He slapped his palm on the table. "This is your only warning. Any reckless displays like the one you did today and I'll revoke that badge!" He pointed at your badge clipped to your breast pocket.

"Now get out of my sight!" He shooed you out of the room.

"Sir," you took your leave.

Once out of the room you kicked Barton's legs, forcing him from his nap.

"Ouch, fuck!"

"Get up, I need a drink!"

Clint eyed you, "We're still on duty."

"Fuck duty," You headed for the elevator. "You coming or not? I'm buying remember!"

Clint shot up from the chair and hobbled over, "That's all you had to say!"

**  
**

**~Avenger's Compound**

The room was pitch black save for the colour-shifting, low light that resonated off the television screen. Bucky sat in the deserted lounge area nursing a despondent mood and a heavy brow. His eyes glued to the television screen as it played back an old DVR'd recording of his legal trial that took place months before being instated as an Avenger.

The volume on the television was low, but the room was empty enough that it sounded louder than normal.

 _"Case 12773. James Buchanan Barnes vs the people. We call forth Steve Rogers as a character witness for Mr Barnes who is on trial for any illegal activities committed in the name of the secret organisation known as Hydra, between the years 1945 and 2016, while under duress. Mr Rogers, please take the stand." The judged banged her gavel to silence the courtroom_.

An old and weary Steve moved towards the stand at a pace slower than Bucky's mind was comfortable reconciling. Knowing his best friend was nearing the end in that moment still stung even while re-watching it as an old recording.

Bucky watched in silence as he looked at Steve lobbying on his behalf to be allowed to be forgiven for past transgressions.

_"He never even had the luxury of committing any of these crimes of his own free will or sound mind. They should be dismissed or at the very least declared a mistrial. These are the actions of the Winter Soldier, a weapon honed and trained by a nefarious organisation, not my oldest friend and former member of the Howling Commando's, James Buchanan Barnes," Steve's old and gravelly voice was filled with conviction as he spoke into the microphone._

The crowd started to rumble and several camera shutters sounded off as the Judge banged her gavel to regain order.

A mournful smile crept over Bucky's lips as he fought back tears at the sight of his best friend lobbying tirelessly for him.

How he wished he could turn to him at such a time.

Bucky's heart had barely started healing when Y/N had been ripped from him.

Bucky paused the recording at the moment when Y/N had taken his hand reassuringly after what seemed like the hundredth procession. They had fitted him with a non-threatening prosthetic to seem less menacing in the eyes of the politicians and jury members. It didn’t stop them from staring at him in distaste every time a new piece of evidence was brought to light- and there had been a lot of damning evidence.

Bucky wasn't averse to the fact that his life came with a lot of baggage, which is why he was amazed when Y/N had stood by his side through everything. Through the gruelling and soul-crushing trial. Through those bleak, empty days that followed after Steve's funeral. Even through his reluctant integration back into the field as an Avenger.

It hadn't been easy. A lot of the public hadn't been happy with that decision, but Bucky had grown used to being under every government’s scrutinous eye. Yet, despite countless news channels and tabloid newspapers calling him a mentally unstable monster who could snap back to his old ways at any time, Y/N had stood by him.

"Broodin' in the dark?" Sam's voice called out from behind the couch.

"You know of a better place to do it?" Bucky retorted with no humour present, muting the video.

"No, this'll do it," Sam replied. “I thought I’d find you in the gym, working over that punchin’ bag you’ve taped to hell and back. Or at the very least lifting some iron. This is a change of pace.” he sat on the other end of the couch.

"Please, make yourself comfortable, it's not like I wanted to be alone," Bucky said sarcastically.

"Like I needed your permission," Sam jabbed.

“The punching bag is just a bag now.” Bucky revealed.

Sam nodded in understanding.

"Any updates?" Bucky seemed almost afraid to ask.

"No, we're still trying to track her signal," he said before looking at the screen in recognition. "Oh, shit. The trial. Damn, I do not miss those days. I had to wear my uncle Earl's suit, it stunk of weed, he says it’s for a prescription but I know better. How longs it been, eight months?"

Bucky refrained from laughing, "A little longer."

"That was almost as painful as the Sokovian Accords," Sam remarked.

Bucky looked at him with knitted brows, "We were fugitives then."

Sam let a full laugh out, "Yeah, and that was still a less stressful time."

"Weren't you shot out of the sky?"

"Yeah, almost, but you got your ass handed to you by a fourteen-year-old," Sam retorted.

“So did you.”

"Ah, good times."

Both men chuckled at the remarkable power of hindsight.

Sam tapped on the couch excitedly when he remembered something, "Hey, fast forward to the time they put Shuri on the stand. I love how she makes all those suits look like idiots when she talks about all the scientific gobbledygook she used to tape your mind back together."

Bucky sighed heavily, but a small smile peaked across his cheeks as he fast-forwarded the recording.

Midway through the video, Bucky was reminded of something funny during his rehab in Wakanda.

Sam caught sight of him letting out a silent laugh.

"What?" he asked.

"Uhh, it's nothing," Bucky tried to deflect.

"Spit it out Tin-can!" Sam said impatiently.

"During my rehab, Shuri started talking about the benefits of physical therapy. In the middle of her long-winded explanations, I used to zone out a lot when she used big scientific words, I lost track of what she was saying and blindly agreed to this therapeutic exercise she recommended. Turns out it was a week of yoga."

Sam burst out laughing, his hand slapped his chest in amusement. "Did you have to wear yoga pants?"

Bucky opened his mouth to answer but thought against it once Sam laughed even louder.

Out of the blue, a red streak of light reflected off the glass windows of the lounge prompting Bucky and Sam to crane their necks in the opposite direction.

Wanda tapped on the glass and ushered them outside.

When they walked out into the night, they caught sight of Wanda holding onto a small thumb drive and sporting a satisfied smile, "We located Y/N!"

"We?" Sam asked

At the same time, Bucky also asked, "You found her?"

"Me, Friday and Pepper!" Wanda pointed to the blue Iron-Woman suit that had just landed a few feet away with a heavy metallic thud.

"Boys," Pepper greeted from within the Rescue suit.

"Pepper," Sam waved. "Is that really you, or--"

The helmet of the Rescue suit peeled back revealing no one inside before closing again. "Sadly, I couldn't be there in person. I'm gonna hand the reigns over to Friday, she'll set the co-ordinates into the Quin Jet and provide assistance on your mission. I have a girl’s sleepover to supervise... on a school night no less."

"Thanks, Pepper," Wanda smiled.

"Anytime," Pepper logged off and the distinct Irish lilt of the Friday program came online: "I'll go get the jet ready, boss." The Rescue suit took the thumb drive from Wanda and flew towards the garage.

Bucky had looked a little lost through the whole exchange, but his eyes showed how determined he was to get things rolling.

Wanda continued, "Using Stark's satellites, we managed to pin-point her location to a set radius over the Weddell Sea. All we have to do is connect Friday's mainframe to the Quin jet, which she's handling, and we're good to go."

Bucky sprinted to the jet hanger after Friday without a seconds thought.

Wanda was about to follow suit when she noticed Sam hadn't moved.

"What are you waiting for, Sam? Gear up!"

"Are you sure you're ready for active duty?" Sam asked.

Wanda, in turn, cocked her head to the side and said, "My friend is in danger, of course I am!"

"That's all I needed to hear," Sam smiled proudly as he and Wanda made for the hanger.

**~Several Hours Later, Over the Weddell Sea**

"Coming up on the signal, boss," Friday informed Wanda. "It seems like the signal's remained stationary."

All three of them were geared up, wired up and more than ready to get their teammate back.

"Probably a base of operations," Sam noted.

"The scans show no entrance above ground," Bucky frowned. "Diving suits?"

"We'd mobilise faster if we had an underwater vehicle," Sam noted. "Besides, if we jump from this high..."

"Gravity," Bucky nodded, following Sam's train of thought. "So we can't jump, we'll have to land."

Wanda walked over to the Quin Jet's hull and pressed the button that opened the doors, depressurising the jet in a rush of strong wind.

"No, we jump on my mark," Wanda said boldly. "Leave gravity to me."

"Boss, this suit doesn't have underwater capabilities, you'll have to take me along with this," the Rescue suit handed Wanda the flash drive.

Sam and Bucky exchanged cautious looks before standing beside Wanda, her eyes glowing red.

"Now," Wanda signalled as she dove headfirst out of the jet.

"Shit!" Sam groaned as he followed second.

Bucky squeezed something tied around his neck and said in silent prayer, "Hold on, doll. We're coming." And then he dove third.

As all three of them were pulled down headfirst towards the icy sea, their speed increasing as they descended further, Sam instinctively began to brace but suddenly a whirlpool began to form, separating the seawater to form a tunnel that drilled downwards until it reached a man-made structure. Red streaks of mist mixed with the dark water to form spiralling stripes of red and navy.

Bucky began to feel his body growing lighter and lighter, red mist covering him, Wanda and Sam in puffs of smoke.

When they reached the seafloor, they touched down lightly, the whirlpool following them like a protective perimeter.

Bucky looked up, only to see a roof of water rippling about. The whirlpool had transformed into a dome below surface level. Wanda began to breathe heavy, her fingers held up as though she were simply holding an umbrella for them.

"There," Sam pointed out as he looked at his tablet, a glowing force field shielding a metal gate. "The origin of the signal."

"You were right, it is a base," Bucky said.

"That looks like alien tech," Sam noted.

"Mind if we hurry this along boys, the sea is quite heavy," Wanda strained.

* * *

Once they were inside the compound, Bucky and Sam handled most of the heavy lifting, allowing Wanda a bit of respite. All their opponents were clad in black tactical gear, no flags, sigil’s or markings.

Bucky transformed into a brutal machine, dispensing of all potential threats thrown their way with lethal precision and a feral show of uncontrolled power. Sam and Wanda would occasionally have to pry him off someone when he began to see red. He was unhinging.

"Black ops?" Sam asked

Wanda shook her head as she used her ability to restrain Bucky after an outburst, "Hiding under an Ocean floor bed? No, they scavenged the alien tech. Whoever they are, they aren't military or government."

"Hhhhh!" He resisted against her powers but then let out a deep sigh.

"You good?" She asked.

Bucky shook the Winter Soldier's temperamental resurgence away, "Yeah."

"Let’s go," Wanda released her telekinetic grip from him.

Along the way, Wanda spotted an odd Z shaped symbol spray painted into the walls. She recognised it from somewhere, but she couldn’t place it.

When they got to the control room, all three of them were covered in sweat, their bodies beginning to show signs of fatigue- Bucky most of all, his rage had burned through him like a match to gasoline.

"Y/N!" he shouted, relief taking over his hardened features as he raced to the sensory deprivation tank she was floating in. EEG's and EKG's wired up to her brain and heart function. A small bar at the bottom revealed her memories were at 72% synchronisation.

"We have time," Bucky said thankfully as his hand pressed against the glass.

Wanda looked around at all the other tanks filled with strangers, "Who are these people?"

"We'll answer that question once we get our girl out," Sam said as he plugged Friday's USB into the computer terminal. Sam saw a leather bound book lying on a table, “This looks important.” He flipped through the pages.

“What does it say?” Wanda asked as she took a turn about the room, inspecting the machinery which was stamped with Cyrillic, Greek and what looked to be Sokovian letters.

“I got no clue, I can’t read Hieroglyphs,” Sam tossed her the book.

Wanda grumbled after she read the title. “It’s Sokovian. I think it’s a manifesto…” Suddenly everything clicked in place. “I know what this place is. Helmut Zemo wrote a manifesto while in prison. It was in the news around the same time as Bucky’s trial. He talked about how the world’s greatest failing was superheroes. Something about the world being a better place if the Avengers never existed. If they never toyed with the idea of global security.”

"I read an old Shield case file on the way here. A man named Radcliffe invented the Framework, it was originally designed as a training simulator,” Bucky chimed in.

“So what? A group of anarchists mobilise, take his word as scripture and build a computer program where superhero’s don’t exist?” Sam asked.

The sound of soldiers mobilising to their position became cause for concern.

Bucky ran to the control room door panel and started flipping switches hoping the main entrance would seal behind them, all it did was cause several observation shutters to open and close.

Wanda sighed then shut the doors using her telekinetic powers.

"You sure are handy in a pinch," Bucky mused.

Wanda was too burnt out to think of a retort and simply nodded in agreement.

"Ugh, guys we may have a problem," Sam said.

Bucky's metal fist connected brutally with the sealed door, generating a loud metallic thud, "Why is nothing simple anymore?"

"What's the problem?" Wanda moved closer to the monitors.

Sam typed at the keys, unsure of how to proceed, "According to the program, there's no way to manually unplug someone. That case file say anything else, Buck?"

Bucky's eyes skittered in thought as the sound of a welding blade cutting through the door alerted everyone to their shortening time limit.

“A few years ago, some agents got plugged in. They were rescued and successfully disconnected from the Framework before it was destroyed. I was hoping the same rules wouldn't apply here since I'm guessing this is a rebuild."

"Well," Sam urged Bucky to drop the other shoe. "How'd they get out?"

Bucky took a deep breath, "The only way you can unplug someone from this Framework is from the inside, there’s usually a backdoor exit programed into the world."

"Shit!" Sam ran a hand over his clean shave.

Friday's protocols finished downloading and her voice blared through the old, static PA system like nails on a chalk board, "Online, boss."

"Friday, can you locate our avatars in the Framework?" Sam asked.

"Searching," Friday responded.

The first of three bolts had been cut through, sparks halting momentarily before the saw blades were replaced and the motor of the welding machine was restarted.

"Come on, come on," Bucky tapped the table impatiently.

"Two avatars located. One James Buchanan Barnes and one Sam Wilson. The avatar of one, Wanda Maximoff died year 2015 during the destruction of Sokovia at the hands of a Hydra intelligence android gone rogue. Designation, the Crimson Cowl. Survived by known terrorist and fugitive, Pietro Maximoff."

Wanda gasped in shock as her lips trembled out her brother’s name, "Pietro is alive?"

"Alive is a relative term," Friday corrected. "But he has an active string of code within the Framework. To everyone plugged in, he is as real as they are."

Wanda slumped against a machine as she tried to process this information.

"Friday, if we go into the Framework, will we still have our memories?" Bucky asked as he took off his jacket, walking with purpose towards an empty tank.

"I can over-ride the base program's code and allow you to take over your avatar's body within the Framework, but I cannot change where you end up. You will wake up in a foreign world with your own memories and no backup," Friday informed him.

Bucky tapped on several buttons as he tried to activate the tank, "What about Y/N?"

Friday's voice whined several times before the PA system cleared up as much as it could, "The program automatically severs ties between the avatar and the brain once synchronisation is complete. The higher the synchronisation, the more her personality is overtaken by the one encoded for in the Framework. Chances are, she won't recognise you."

"What happens if our avatars die in there?" Sam asked as he placed his machine guns on the table and walked over to the adjoining tank.

"I'm afraid your mind will not be able to distinguish the real from the simulated. The Framework is programmed to feel real, so for all intents and purposes, if you die in there, you die out here," Friday informed them.

"You can't come with me Sam, I won't ask you too," Bucky tried to talk Sam out of coming with.

Sam placed a hand on Bucky's shoulder, "You never have to ask, Tin-can. We're all we've got." Sam looked at Y/N's submerged body in the tank to the left. "We're all she's got."

"I'm expendable," Bucky kept pushing. "You're the team’s leader. Steve chose you."

"No one's expendable," Wanda finally stood on her own two feet, trust in her eyes. "Two is better than one. I'm stronger, I'll hold them off when they breach the doors, you just make sure you make it out of there… all three of you."

The second bolt was welded through. The whirring halted and then started up again. Sparks flying like confetti.

Bucky nodded like the soldier he was and with little patience, he jumped into the tank and fixed the wires and breathing apparatus onto his body.

"Maybe you should be the leader," Sam pondered aloud.

Wanda smiled sadly, "There's more to being a good leader than just raw power. After all, I was trained by a man who uses a bow and arrow." She reminded him.

"Friday, how long do we have until Y/N reaches full synchronisation?" Sam asked as he turned his tank on.

"Calculating," Friday ran the numbers over the computer monitor. "Less than 14 hours real time. Time moves faster in the Framework, in there it will be just under 72 hours. When you rescue her, look for a signal, that’s where the exit will be programmed."

"Got it," Sam replied as he put one foot in the tank.

"Sam, I feel I should warn you about your avatar--"

"Times awastin'," Sam said with a cocky attitude as he placed the breathing apparatus over his face and fully submerged into the tank.

"Boss, you need to give the all clear to administer the sedatives," Friday informed Wanda.

She walked over and pressed the enter key. A long needle popped out of the tanks walls and pumped Bucky and Sam full sedatives. Their vitals read steady as they drifted off.

Wanda cracked her neck as she took up defensive stances, the room all but glowing the same shade of red as her eyes.

Friday began a countdown, "The avatars will be fully loaded in 3, 2, 1..."

**  
**

**~Hydra Headquarters.**

You were hunkered over the toilet bowl as your stomach kept forcing bile up your throat. It had been a mistake to come into work after you and Clint had dived into several bottles of whiskey at McCredie's for a weekend-long binge. Steve had all but confined you the couch, still angry from your fight. Deciding his brooding glares and awkward silences were too much for you, you had chosen to sleep on Clint’s couch.

After throwing up your breakfast, you wiped your mouth with some tissue and dabbed at your watery eyes that bled mascara.

"Ughhh, that's the last time I drink with that smug bastard," you groaned to yourself as you flushed the toilet and struggled to get up off the floor.

After washing your hands and fixing a pair of big, dark-tinted glasses over your sensitive eyes, you made your way out of the Men's room -which you had mistaken for the Women's room- and headed for your desk.

You blocked one ear with your hand as you squinted from the few rays of light that slipped through the cracks, feet dragging against the carpeted floor.

Out of nowhere, a panicked junior agent ran up to you.

"Agent Y/N!"

"Fuck, don't shout, I'm literally less than five feet from you," you whined as your head recoiled from the agents loudly pitched voice.

"I'm sorry agent, but our border patrols caught a man trying to sneak past a checkpoint earlier," He handed you a file.

You tucked it under your arm without glancing at it, "Why should I care about a fence hopper?"

"Because, Ma'am, he demanded to speak to you."

"I was on television last night, any insane whack job can throw my name around and sound important," you started moving away from the conversation.

"He had a metal arm and was wearing a Shield emblem," he shouted after you.

A few other agents stopped what they were doing and glanced your way suspiciously.

The mention of Shield caught your attention, you spun around to face the scrawny junior agent, "Five seconds, impress me or I walk."

"He said his name is Bucky Barnes."

You waved your hands in frustration when he didn't elaborate further, "Who the fuck is Bucky Barnes?"


	4. Two Halves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** When Nat went underground, instead of dying her hair blonde like in IW, she dyed it black. I had fun with the idea of Nat and Pietro and Bucky forming this unconventional family of sorts, and I loved playing with the idea that Sam and Carol were old friends in the framework, though tbh, I don’t really know where her framework arc might lead. I will have to do a second pass proofread but anyway...  
>  **Note:** There’s a Framework centric spin-off in the WIP tank!  
> 

**PARTFOUR: TWO HALVES**

**~Canada, The Refuge**

The sound of birds chirping outside his window stirred him from his slumber. Bucky was still groggy from sleep, rubbing the remnants of unconsciousness from his eyes with the pads of his flesh fingers. He yawned awake, sitting up from under the covers of the double bed. Glancing at the clock, he noted it was 6 am.

"72 hours," he reminded himself as got up from the bed and walked to the closet, a watch materialising on his wrist, a timer counting down.

"Thanks, Friday," he looked to the ceiling.

There was no reply. Only the sound of wind rustling through the blinds.

While digging through the closet, he was surprised to find several women's clothes hanging next to his. Choosing to ignore that red flag, he reached for a long-sleeved shirt on the rack and noticed his metal arm was a different colour than the usual chrome-blue and gold. This one was red, white and blue.

 _Cap's colours_ , he internally pointed out.

A canary emblem in place of the Russian star he had once sported.

"What the?" He glanced at the etched bird using the door fitted mirror beside him. When his eyes looked up to inspect his face, he was greeted by a head of short hair, shaven at the sides. He would have looked military if not for his medium length stubble. He ran a hand through his spikey hair, the brush of it against the metal feeling unfamiliar, "Is this pomade?"

As soon as his hand fell from the trailed paths his fingers had parted through his styled hair, a woman's voice spoke out dotingly, "Morning, Soldat."

The woman's Russian accent was faded but present, she sounded almost like...

"Nat?" Bucky swung around.

She tilted her head to the side. Her hair was longer, darker, a charcoal blackness that absorbed the light. Her face marked by an imposing lateral scar running across the length it, partially healed like a botched brazing job. She looked different but it was indeed her.

"Nat?" She laughed awkwardly. "Not Talia?" She shrugged as she walked over. "Semantics." Her gaze running across his exposed chest with shameless desire.

"Ugh, Nat- Talia, what are you?" Bucky tried to use the closet door to hide his body.

Natasha laughed again as though he were being silly, "You're acting weird this morning. When you're done being all modest, come down to the kitchen so we can start making breakfast for the kids."

Bucky's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, "Kids?"

It was then that he noticed the couple’s photo of him and Nat on the nightstand, coupled with Nat's flirty behaviour, the double bed and the shared closet, everything finally made sense. And now his stomach was doing summersaults.

"Kids?" Bucky said again as he stared at Natasha with his mouth agape. "Nat… Uhh, Talia."

"You can call me Nat if it's suddenly easier for you, _liybimaya._ "

Bucky's neck reclined back as if those words had slapped him, "My love...?"

"Yes?"

"What is- Never mind… Um, do you know how to get in contact with Shield?"

"James, I thought we agreed to let that go. We have enough responsibilities with the kids as it is." Natasha pointed to the portrait style picture hung up on the wall.

Bucky peered at the sixteen by twenty inch photograph. In the forefront was a group of kids of all shapes and sizes, seated on two rows of benches, wearing clashing colours and sporting wide grins as they looked out at the camera. Natasha, Pietro, Bucky and a scary, muscly woman stood behind them. Pietro had thrown up an 'L' sign behind the other Bucky's face, his cheek lines prominent in an obvious laughing position while Natasha had pressed her face between two young children, one of them sticking out their tongue playfully.

Underneath the portrait was an engraving on a brass plate: _Second Chance, Home for the Displaced Children of Sokovia, 2017._

"Oh, _those_ kids," Bucky sighed inaudibly, relief hitting him like a wave of ice-water. When he turned back to answer the raven-haired woman blinking rapidly his way, he almost felt sorry for her. Even if she wasn't real to him, she was very much real in her own right, and this very real person had just lost the man she shared a life with. What was worse was that she didn't realise it yet.

"Right, of course, how silly of me to forget about that." Bucky's lips wound up in a corkscrew motion as he pulled his shirt over his head. "Okay, then do you know how to get in contact with Fury?"

"What is a 'Fury'?"

Bucky's eyes rolled in the back of his head, "A figment of my imagination apparently. How about Sam Wilson?"

"Sam… Wilson?" Her lips upturned in a half-moon. "Is he someone from your Shield days? The name is familiar…"

"Uhh, yeah, something like that."

Natasha frowned, "What's really going on with you? You're acting strange this morning. This isn't because of the news last night is it?"

"News?"

"That Hydra captured the Iron-Maiden?” Natasha patted his chest. “Pepper is stubborn, she won't talk, you can relax. We're safe as houses as long as we stay across the border." She left the bedroom as Bucky pulled on his jeans.

Jogging after her, he spotted another framed photograph of a younger version of him shaking hands with someone who looked presidential hanging on the Livingroom walls.

"Hurry up Soldat, these potatoes won't peel themselves."

"I'll be right there Na- Talia!" Bucky searched the large living space for a computer or electronic device, he needed to get familiar with this world before he could make any efforts to find Y/N.

After he had moved some couch cushions and disorganised several drawers, Natasha came back into the room, peeling knife in hand.

"James? What are you looking for?"

"The… _remote_?" His voice went squeaky. “I wanted to check the news updates.”

Natasha brushed the edges of her fringe away from her eyes as she blinked rapidly again, "James the kids lost that days ago. We sent Pietro to buy a new one while on his supply run." She peered at him, folding her arms defensively. "Are you sure everything is fine?"

Bucky exhaled, moving closer to Natasha so he could look her earnestly in the eye, "No, it's not."

Her mouth fell, "What's the matter, _liybimaya_?"

Bucky glowered briefly, "A friend of mine is in danger, a Shield agent. I need to help her before it's too late, but to do that I need to find her. Sam Wilson was… her contact. If I find him, I can find her."

"You've never mentioned this before..." Natasha rubbed his metal arm with her free hand. "The tablet is in the bedroom, you can search about your friend."

"Thank you!" Bucky buzzed with energy, teetering in front of Natasha indecisively, unsure of what their dynamic was. He settled for kissing her on the forehead, awkwardly.

"You're… welcome…?" She watched him jog back into their shared bedroom, her fingers spinning the peeling knife with great skill.

Bucky fished out the tablet, dismayed to find it password protected, "Shit!" He leaned his head in his hand as he thought of possible password combinations. "Okay, let's try my birthday."

The screen remained locked, a message notifying him he had two more chances.

"Damn it! If I'm with Shield in this universe, maybe I just got the format wrong..."

Bucky typed his birthday in the American format.

The screen was still locked.

"It can't be Y/N's birthday because this world's Bucky probably never met her…" Bucky drummed his fingers against his temple, his eyes widening when he punched in another set of numbers.

The screen unlocked.

"Curious..." Bucky thought out loud before opening up a search engine.

When he searched for the name: Y/N Y/L/N, he was perplexed when nothing came up, instead, there was a small 'i' icon at the edge of the screen that suggested: "Did you mean Y/N Rogers?"

Bucky pressed his lips into a white slash, his neck turning stiff as his finger hesitated above the red highlighted words. After taking a moment to gather himself, Bucky's metal finger tapped on the link swiftly, the metal colliding with the glass harder than he intended.

A news headline popped up and Bucky read the words, keeping pace with the speed of the scrolling script, "Android Ensures New Yorkers Sleep Safer. Hydra's top of the line security android, Spectre, successfully apprehended and pacified the Iron Maiden's (Virginia 'Pepper' Potts) terrorist cell with record low losses. Steve Rogers and his team (comprising of veteran Hydra officers Clint Barton and Y/N Rogers) were present at the sight, providing ground support and med-evac assistance. This signifies a new milestone in overseeing Director Alexander Pierce's vision for a safer, brighter world under Hydra's protective governance.”

Bucky's molars strained from the stress of his compressed jaw, memories of Alexander Pierce and the mind splitting brain-washing sessions made his blood boil. Shaking his head, which felt odd considering his hair didn't sway into his eyes, Bucky continued scrolling through other articles.

"Power couple of the century?" he retorted sarcastically as the picture of Steve and Y/N dressed in wedding attire mocked him. Their happy faces a punch to the gut. How could he feel jealous, angry and mournful at both his best friend and his girlfriend all at once?

Bucky's metal arm propelled the tablet like a boomerang at the wall, only it never reached it.

"I leave for two days and you return to your old brooding self, smashing furniture like we can afford it?" Pietro tossed the tablet in the air with a boyish grin on his face. "Come, friend, you better not let Talia see those tight eyebrows, huh." He flashed over to the dresser and back, tablet no longer in his hand as he patted Bucky on the back. "We can't keep reminding you that it's not your fault Steve was awoken by the tentacle crazies. What could you do, huh? You were a popsicle stick for almost a hundred years. _A hundred years_!"

Bucky felt his anger lose its hold on him, for a moment he had forgotten everything he was feeling and seeing wasn't real. Somehow having Pietro sit beside him, treating him like a friend, made that all clear again because Bucky had never met Pietro, he had only ever seen pictures of him hanging in Wanda's room, his very presence was the stark jolt of surrealism he needed to remind himself of why he was here.

"You're right," Bucky said as he rose from the bed and retrieved the tablet.

"Oh, hey, hey, hey now," Pietro held his palms up at Bucky. "You aren't planning to-" he made a throwing gesture at the wall.

Bucky's cheek lifted up as he returned a calming half-smile, "Don't worry, I'm not going to throw anymore furniture."

Pietro let out a shaky laugh, hands placed on his hips as his cheeks inflated from a deep exhale, "Good, because I broke the other one and we don't want to see Talia get mad again."

"Err, right. That would be…" Bucky pressed the 'e' at the end of his sentence as Pietro looked on with buggy eyes. "…Bad?"

Pietro nodded in agreement.

"Oh, did you remember to get the replacement remote?" Bucky asked as he typed in Sam's name into the search engine.

Pietro smacked his thigh with the underside of his hand, "I knew I forgot something. Don't tell Talia I was here, I'll go pick it up right now."

Pietro flashed out of the space in a fraction of a second, residual wind from his velocity drying out Bucky's eyeballs.

"Jesus," Bucky whispered when he read the information packet on Sam.

**~Sam's Homestead, Missouri**

Sam was rudely awoken by his loud alarm clock that sounded more like a fire alarm than a soothing melody. He smashed the digital clock as he fumbled with his sheets. His breath tasted of something foul, like stagnant bile, and his head pounded like a marching band had just traipsed across his synapses, a throbbing sensation pulsing at his temples.

When his eyes finally opened he was horrified by the disastrous state of his avatar's home. Clothes were piled on the floor, blinds shut, several cans and bottles littering the space, filling the air with a stale rancid smell of sweat, malt and sick.

He glanced down at his vest and noticed the vomit stains, "Jesus Christ."

Sam groaned as he motioned to sit up from the bed. However, with his balance out of whack, he tumbled onto the floor, face-first into a pile of unwashed slacks that made him retch.

"What the fuck?" He looked down at his feet and noticed he only had the one leg. The other was amputated at the knee leaving behind a mangled scar and a phantom pain that his conscious mind refused to reconcile since the real version of him still had control of both his legs, submerged in a tank underwater. "I didn't see this comin’."

Sam rolled his eyes as he hoisted himself back onto the bed and looked around for a pair of crutches, reaching under the bed instinctively, he was pleasantly amazed to find them there. "Let’s try this again."

He picked himself up on one leg, hobbling about on his crutches that got tangled with all the clutter on his way out of the room.

"Hello?" Sam called out into the dusty, humid house but there was no reply, only dead silence and the grinding of a fan in need of oiling. "Man, this is turning out to be one hell of a bad day."

A stopwatch manifested on his wrist, the hours counting down. Sam pulled his head back, eyes searching for some kind of sign in place of the water-stained ceiling, "Friday, I need to get in touch with Bucky, know how I can do that?"

Silence.

"Yeah, figures."

When he got to the kitchen he saw a note scribbled on a piece of stationery: _'There's some clean laundry in the dryer. I restocked your fridge. Remember: one day at a time. S.'_

"S? Who the hell is S?" He complained, turning on his three legs to get a feel for the room. A wistful sigh filling the emptiness.

A gurgling noise rumbled from his stomach, the headache that most likely succeeded his avatar's heavy night of drinking was undoubtedly the cause. Sam tried to clear his throat and rid the taste of fermented wheat from his tongue and teeth, but it didn't help much. It only made him realise how desperate he was for a good shower and a bottle of mouthwash.

He set the rusty coffee pot to brew, deciding the metal tang it would adopt would only be a trick of the senses and hopefully not carry any lasting side effects. He cracked open a window, letting the smell of conifers and rain unclog his sinuses. He then clomped his way down to the bathroom and ran himself a bath after he figured showering would be more of a challenge given his new-old condition. It bothered him more that he could still feel his leg, rather than be without it. It was so surreal to look down and see it gone every time. The irritation digging into his under-arms from the crutches was a psychological reminder of the harsh reality he was about to be subjected to in this world.

After brushing his teeth and changing into new clothes, which required some tactful manoeuvring, Sam looked around for any electronic device that connected to the internet.

"Bingo!" He cheered as he saw a tablet stuffed between two couch cushions. There was no password protection on the device. "Gee, I guess I got nothin' to hide huh? Well if that's the case..." Sam typed his name into the search engine and regretted it immediately after he read the first few headlines: _'Reckless Pilot Destroys Multi-Million Dollar Flight Suit; Drunk, Dishonourably Discharged; Sam Wilson's Vet Clinic Foreclosure; Disgraced Pilot Flees to the Hills.'_

"Well, this is depressing," Sam threw the tablet on the couch, opting to switch on the news channel instead. As he rifled through the strange house, the news reporter filled him in on whatever passed for news in this new, frightening world.

"Eyewitnesses report of seeing a strange blue and white streak making its way across Europe earlier this week. Hydra enforcements remind all citizens to call the subservient prevention hotline if they see any person or persons acting suspiciously," the reporter said.

Sam guffawed as he flipped through old photo albums, "Oh yeah, scare the little guy into giving up his neighbour… real patriotic."

"In other news, Hydra's defence android, dubbed Spectre by the head office, has successfully led a charge to apprehend and pacify the Iron Maiden's terrorist cell earlier this week. Citizens of New York can sleep safer knowing that this menace has been brought to justice and is expected to fill out her life sentence behind bars at the Hydra supermax prison."

Withholding the urge to spit, Sam clamped down on his crutches and stomped to the kitchen to grab that cup of coffee.

The reporter continued her deep-dive, "And now, politics. Hell's Kitchen boasts another prosperous year under the leadership of Mayor Fisk. Following recent events concerning the escape of the Punisher, former military specials unit Captain Billy Russo, local citizens have demonstrated their support for the mayor's proposed anti-vigilante task force by taking to the streets in protest against the rising number of subservients. Opposing mayoral candidate, Congressman Murdock, warns voters to not be so hasty with their vote as he fears the new proposed task force may cause an increase in police unemployment rates."

Sam switched the TV off, his frustration causing him to toss the remote callously onto the couch, where it bounced and smashed onto the floor, batteries popping out of the casing and rolling under the couch.

Not without difficulty, Sam got on his one knee, his stump waving in the air without a place to perch, and extended his arm under the sofa, patting down to try and feel for the cylindrical batteries. An odd film textured object slid across his calloused pads as he patted down on the floorboards.

With an interested drone, Sam fished out the glossy paper and fell back on his ass so he could observe it properly. It was a photograph of him with someone who looked like an aged Carol Danvers. She was wearing a green flight suit, hiding her crow’s-feet behind blue-tinted aviators. Standing beside her was a grey-haired Peggy Carter in a wheelchair held in place by Sharon – sunlight flares blurring her smile. The air force logo was stuck to the side of a jet in the background, his old nickname _'Snap Wilson'_ spray-painted on it.

Sam Flipped the photograph around to skim read the fine, cursive inscription: _‘Congrats on moving up, Snap. You'll be missed by the grunts at the bottom. Leave some target practice for us. And remember: one day at a time. C & S.’_

"Well, I'll be damned. Hello, _S._.." Sam's nail scratched at a smudge on the corner of the photograph, it looked almost like a watermark stamp of the letter L. "What is--"

A shrill ringing sound came from his landline. He swivelled his head from side to side trying to spot the annoying thing. It was hiding under a stack of old newspapers that needed to be put in the recycling.

"He- Shit!" He almost tumbled on one leg. "Hello?"

"Sam? It's Bucky..."

* * *

Bucky shoved whatever useful supplies he could find lying about into a small backpack before slinging it over his shoulders and clipping it at the front of his chest -an old habit as it were.

Natasha walked in on him circling blind spots on a map with a marker, his face conveying devastation as if she'd just caught him in bed with another woman.

When Bucky didn't say anything, Natasha pointed to the training equipment peeking out from under her bed –their bed. "Training sessions. I forgot my knee pads." She picked them up, dusting them down. "You're leaving, aren't you?" Her tone was sad yet insightful.

Bucky was growing increasingly agitated as the seconds continued to count down on his watch, "I need to head over there!"

"James, stop! Last time you were on Hydra's radar that damned psychopath tore your arm off!"

He folded the map into his back pocket, "Stark?"

She threw her hands in the air, "No, Stark is the only reason you were fitted with a replacement! I'm talking about that monster that Hydra fished out of the ocean."

"Steve?" His tone went dark.

"Did you hit your head when you were chopping firewood yesterday? Yes, Steve. Of course, Steve!" Natasha smacked the side of his head with the knee pads.

Bucky strode past her, "You don't have to shout."

"Then stop acting like you were born yesterday!"

One of the foster kids witnessed their shouting and was ushered into another room by a worried-looking Pietro. Natasha swore in Russian before slamming their bedroom door shut, trapping Bucky inside with her.

He took her hands in his, "Look, I know I don't seem myself, but I have to get to New York. It's important. There's someone I swore to protect, no matter what and she's in danger now. I know you still care about the world, Na- _Talia_. These kids you're helping are evidence enough. Help me do this one thing and I promise everything will go back to normal."

Natasha sighed, "I haven't seen that look in your eye in a long time. Whoever it is must be important."

"More than you know."

"Where is she... your friend?"

"With Hydra. In New York."

"A prisoner?"

"Of sorts."

"New York huh?" Her eyes steeled with venomous conviction, her fingers twitching around the air between her fingertips and her scar. "I can think of a reason or two to tag along."

"No, I can't ask you to come with me, it's too dangerous, and the kids need you."

"You need me, _liybimaya_. It's like I told you all those years ago, the only thing powerful enough to separate us is death…" Her hand fell on his jaw, eyes searching his for something he couldn't give. "And even then, it wouldn't be enough."

Bucky sighed, finding himself instinctively leaning into her touch, "Okay, you win. But we have to stop somewhere first."

" _Dge, Soldat?"_ her Russian trickled out.

"Missouri."

* * *

_Knock. Knock. Knock_

"I'm goin' as fast as I can, god damn!" Sam chewed his bottom lip as he clomped his way to the door.

Just as he was about to twist the doorknob, the door burst open and a supersonic boom shook the keys on the wall. A blue and silver streak whizzed past Sam's peripheral. Turning, he was pleasantly surprised to find Pietro eating a packet of crisps that he stole from the kitchen cupboard, feet kicked up as he surfed the channels. “Damn, that’s one fast kid. Like a friggin’ silver bullet.”

"Forgive him," Natasha urged. "Our TV hasn't been functional beyond the weather channel for days, he's forgotten his manners." She extended her hand, "Name's Natalia Romanova."

“Nat…” Sam's mouth remained open for a moment too long and her eyebrows rose up. Gathering his jaw off the ground, he clasped her hand with a loud smacking sound before nearly barking out his reply through a wide grin, "Sam Wilson. Pleasure to meet you."

"Samuel Wilson! I knew that name was familiar. You’re the pilot who crashed the prototype--" Natasha stopped herself mid-sentence.

Sam shrugged, "The very same apparently." He moved to the side to let her in.

Once in the kitchen, he noticed Bucky hadn't stopped staring at his leg, or rather the absence of it. "Take a picture, it'll last longer." He glowered. "If you thought your day was weird, mine was definitely worse."

"I can see that," Bucky cocked his head to the side.

“Coffee? I’m pretty sure it’ll give you tetanus from the rust but…”

“No, thanks.”

Bucky laid out the map from earlier on the kitchen table, his mind obsessing over his attack plan. Sam kept leaning over every now and again to catch a glimpse of Natasha and Pietro looking very much alive and real in the next room.

Curiosity got the better of him, "What's up with you and Nat?" 

"It's Talia over here," Bucky's eyes remained glued to the blueprints. "And apparently we're together and I go by James."

"No shit?" Sam's tone took on a higher pitch, hands tucked under his pits. "I'm an alcoholic who lost a leg and you get paired up with Nat. Yeah, that's very fair," he grumbled sarcastically.

"Sam..."

"I know, I know, I'm focusing on the wrong thing. It's just I'm a little mad is all."

Bucky stopped hunkering over the table as he looked at Natasha and Pietro with an almost-longing stare, "It's weird, you know. The other Bucky has this full life here. He smiles in all his photographs, he wasn't brainwashed by Hydra. Hell, he's even raising kids with Talia and is like an older brother to Pietro. Despite how fucked up things are over here, his life seems fuller. He seems… _better_."

Bucky shook the thoughts from his head, dropping the permanent marker on the table, watching it roll without making an effort to stop it.

"Speak for yourself," Sam told him off. "This side's Sam is a mess. I practically woke up in my own vomit this morning."

"Jesus," was all Bucky gave him.

"Hang on, did you say you and Nat are raising kids together?"

"Mmm-hmm. We run a kids shelter in Canada. I train them in self-defence on Wednesdays and Fridays, and History and English every other weekday."

Sam laughed, using his crutch to poke Bucky's side, "Well, shit. Look at you. Mr Professor Barnes."

Pietro's pure laughter rippled out from the other room as he watched cartoons going about their usual tomfoolery. Something kept gnawing at Bucky's stomach, making him feel uneasy.

Sam scratched his cheek, "You alright there, Tin-can?"

"During the car ride over here, Talia kept reminiscing about our third year anniversary and how we spend a week on a luxury cruise aboard a blip –for some reason, they're the more acceptable form of travel here."

"I mean, it's not such a bad idea. Reduced carbon emissions-"

"That's what you're focusing on? Blips are filled with hydrogen. They explode!"

"Excuse me for finding a bright side in all this. In case you hadn't noticed, there's not much of that going around." Sam tapped on his leg, his eyes narrowing at Bucky.

“Christ on a cracker, must I spell it out?”

“Spell what out?”

“Three-year-anniversary,” Bucky waited for Sam to catch on.

“Oh Shit! Did you two…” He walked closer to Bucky to whisper-hum the wedding march.

Bucky groaned, “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s not exactly the easiest thing to bring up in polite conversation, besides she already suspects something is off with me… him… us? Whatever, you know what I mean.”

Sam chuckled, “Huh… that’s kinda ironic. You spent so long being afraid to propose to the girl you love, even though you have everything –security, shelter –and yet somehow, the guy with more to lose, is the one who was least afraid of being with the woman he loved.” He said, glancing over at Natasha.

As if on cue, the dark haired woman rose from the couch, a piqued expression taking over her features. “Okay, James. Enough with the whispering and the side-ways glances. I think I’ve given you two enough time to catch up. Now… what’s the plan?”

“Well…” Bucky tapped his metal finger on the red circled dot and delved into the details of his rescue plans.

“That won’t work,” Natasha said bluntly once he was done. “The only way you get into Hydra alive is if they bring you in.”

“Are you suggesting…?” Sam’s eyes widened.

“Yup.”

Pietro whooshed in from the couch, licking the crumbs from his fingers. “If we’re going after Hydra, we’ll need backup.”

“I agree,” Natasha replied as she pulled out her phone to dial a number.

“I don’t think the _bol'shaya zhenshchina_ will be enough. I have a favour I can call in. Don’t wait for me.” Pietro added before zooming out of the house.

**~Hydra HQ, NY**

You marched into the interrogation room, the sound of muffled steel punches landing on a human jaw made you flinch. The doors opened automatically and a large molar flew across the room, knocked loose from the mystery man’s mouth. He laughed, staring down his interrogator with such conviction it made your skin erupt in goosebumps.

“Leave us,” you told the man wearing the knuckle duster.

He nodded curtly before spitting, “Terrorist scum!”

You dragged over a chair and sat on it, arms resting on the back support. “So, they tell me you got caught trying to cross the border patrols. Not very smart.”

“Oh, I don’t know, as plans go…” the man lifted his head so his striking blue eyes pierced through you, a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips when he noticed you physically shudder. “It wasn’t so bad. After all, it brought me to you, didn’t it?”

Instantly, a migraine hammered against your cranium with the highest intensity yet, something about his presence, his voice, his eyes, undid every fibre of your being until all you felt was nausea bubbling up to the surface. You gripped the chair to steady yourself but the longer he stared at you, the worse everything got. You felt like you were being torn apart at the seams. In desperation, you hurried out of the room and raced towards a potted plant so you could relieve your stomach of its contents –though there wasn’t much left to throw up.

“Babe, are you alright?” Steve’s hand rubbed at your back as he kneeled next to you.

You huffed lifelessly, wiping the residue of puke from your mouth with your sleeve. Your chin quivered violently forcing your teeth to chatter. The sickly miasma of ozone clung to your nostrils as ghosts from another life encroached around you, and visible only to you from the fact that Steve wasn’t distressed in the least to see a very alive and well Wanda Maximoff laughing by a window -sunlight like fire on her red hair. Through the windows reflective surface, you saw him again, the ghost from the apartment and suddenly, you understood why the man in the interrogation room had shaken you to your core. It was him… the ghost, only he wasn’t a figment of your imagination. He was real too.

You grabbed onto Steve’s arms like they were the only thing keeping you from downing. “I think I’m losing my mind…”


	5. The Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Incase people are unfamiliar, _The Red Guardian is the soviet equivalent of Captain America. I was going to use Alexei Shostakov in this chapter but I ended up using him in AFWHI so instead, I went with[Tania Belinsky.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Starlight_\(Marvel_Comics\))_ In the end, I liked how having Steve fight Tania emphasised the darker nature of Framework!Steve. And yes, I admit, some parts were rushed (serves me right for planning a short series with too much potential to draw from!) but fear not, there’s an epilogue.  
>  ****
> 
>  **Song:** _[Stay Alive](https://open.spotify.com/track/5QpFe4Zc4645Kk4gjD51L3?si=hQVjHksUSvqoQdYYZMqdOQ) _by Hidden Citizens. __  
> 

**PART FIVE: THE CHOICE**

**~  
**

The light fixture above sparked, bulbs exploding from the residual energy rippling off Wanda’s charged aura. Several unconscious bodies lay haphazardly on the floor in no discernible pattern. The door barricaded by debris, upon debris, until there was barely a peephole to look through to the other side.

Exhausted, Wanda fell onto the glass panels of the submersion tanks, a dark rivulet of blood gradually meandering from her nose, the glow of her eyes fizzling out like a gyroscopic disco light.

"Boss, are you okay?" Friday asked after a beat of deafening silence.

Wanda heaved, sweat matting her hair to her cheeks, "I just… I need to catch my breath is all." She glanced over to the tank which housed Y/N, her fingers dusting over the glass as a weak smile crept over her tired face.

"I'll keep them safe," she swore to herself, to the universe.

The sound of a plasma cannon being charged behind the wall of debris worried Wanda, but as much as she wanted to stand, and stay focused, she could barely keep her eyes open. She was past her threshold now, slipping away into unconsciousness. Whether she liked it or not, she was out of commission.

"Friday," her voice was soft, breathy. "How… long?"

"They've been in there a little over eight hours, boss," the program’s Irish lilt was like an unintended lullaby to Wanda's ears.

"We… still… have… time…" her mind was dragged into the clutches of sleep, her hand slipping away from the glass.

Your body shook violently, it felt like you were in the middle of a seizure, unable to control your limbs or the sheer quantity of neurotransmitters that flooded your brain, drenching it in a pool of anxiety.

"Hey, shh, shh," Steve tried to soothe your panic attack away, hands bracing your head and lower spine as you grabbed onto his jacket.

A few junior agents had caught wind of the commotion and stalled on their way to their desks, prompting Steve to sneer at them, "What the hell are you looking at? Move along!"

Feet scurried after that and the dial had been turned back up, now you could hear the usual bustle of the office space flow around you uninterrupted.

"Come on babe, let's calm you down," Steve pulled you off the ground and walked you towards the med bay. He placed you on one of the empty beds, sealing the room shut with a protocol override thanks to his higher clearance.

"Hey, babe, look at me," his hands pulled your face away from your chin. "Good, that's a good girl," he smiled, worry clearly showing in his assertive tone. "Now breathe, just like me."

Steve took a deep breath with his nose and let out a long exhale through this mouth, pads of his thumbs rubbing at your cheek as he encouraged you to do as he did.

Slowly, you mimicked his actions, letting each breath erase the shuddering of your jaw and the rapid hammering beneath your ribs. Swallowing hard after each interval.

"There you go," Steve's grip never softened, he was your rock through the tumultuous storm, rubbing circles on your uncomfortably tight spine.

"I- I think I'm okay now," you whispered softly, hands unclenching from his jacket leaving deep crinkles around the expensive leather.

He pulled up a chair, "What happened to you in there?"

"Honestly," you chuckled with uncertainty. "I don't know. One minute I'm ready to crack skulls and then the next I'm..." you trailed off, a sinking feeling warning you that he might not believe what you had to say.

"What?" his eyes were soft and understanding, this was the gentler side of him that few got the pleasure of seeing.

"I started seeing things, like memories, only…" your hands fidgeted, the urge to bite your nails was strong. “They weren't _my_ memories." A shudder crept through you. You turned to look at the Hydra sigil tiled onto the floor. "Sometimes I feel like nothing is real." You admitted.

Steve stood, his hands massaging your neck in languid strokes, his beard tickling your skin as he brought his lips to caress the sensitive flesh. Your head shot back, eyelashes batting rapidly before finally closing as you bit your lip.

"Does this feel real?"

You gasped as his lips moved lower, his hand moving to the underside of your breast placing a strong grip over the curve of your ribs that guarded your heart.

"Yes," you whimpered.

"And what about this?" his hand grazed a nipple through the light material of your dress shirt, tongue lapping at your skin letting the air cool it so it prickled with sensual energy.

"Hmm," you bit your lip harder.

Steve brought his lips to crush over yours, coaxing a moan out as he massaged the top of your spine with his other hand.

"It's been a stressful few days," his voice was laced with lust, hand moving to pop open the button on your jeans. "Let me take some of that stress away."

He pushed your body down, spreading your legs as he dragged the chair closer so his face was aligned with your thighs, his thumbs hooking over your belt loops, tugging them down ferociously.

You gasped and his laugh carried across the exposed flesh of your inner thigh, hands slipping underneath you to cup your ass and raise your legs so he could trail kisses from your knee to the apex of your thigh. His breath was hot against your lace panties.

"Steve," you gasped, trying to get lost in the moment, but for every sensual sensation running through you, causing your legs to shake with want, your brain kept playing back a song like a recorder stuck on a loop. The image of another man laying over you, being deep inside you, as his hair tickled your breasts with every thrust, fogged your senses. His steely blue eyes matching the man in the interrogation room. Making you feel ashamed of thinking of another man while your husband lavished ay your moistening core.

You squinted, trying to drive those foreign images away, fingers digging into Steve's hair, nudging him further into your core.

He complied, suckling at your clit through the lacy fabric, eliciting another gasp from your lips. The pressure from Steve's mouth pulled blood around your bud, making it become engorged with desire. You grew more sensitive with every lap of his tongue and every nibble of his teeth, crying from pleasure, unashamed that anyone passing by would clearly be able to see the two of you participating in lewd acts if they walked past the semi-translucent door.

Steve's tongue was like a salve for the ache milking you internally and as much as you just wanted to lay there and let your senses go haywire, the more you lost control under his touch, the more your mind wondered.

The ghost, that damned ghost with his perfect eyes and his long silky hair and brooding disposition, came to life in the dark recesses of your subconscious.

Steve finally stripped your panties free and you wiggled into his touch, pushing your hips downwards so his tongue could fill your entrance as he stroked, suckled and devoured you.

"Steve..." you moaned with pleasure and that drove him wild. His hands palmed your ass as his fervour increased. Soon he was fingering you at an unbearable pace while he returned his mouth to your clit. The knot in your stomach began to coil tighter and tighter and tighter.

"Say my name," the ghost whispered.

You snapped your head to the side and defiantly mewled Steve's name again.

"Say. My. Name." it was too light to be a threat, but the edge present in those words made you quake and soon you were unravelling, juices seeping into Steve's hungry mouth.

"Steve… St-Steve, ahh!" You came harder, the climax far from over.

A cold shiver spread from your ear lobe all the way to your aorta and deeper within. The ghost closer than before, close enough to smell his scent and feel his warmth, spoke out again, "Say my name."

You whimpered, the final wave of your climax washing over you as you bit into the pillow and whispered, cracked voice feather-light, "Bucky..."

When you opened your eyes and you saw Steve stand from between your legs licking his fingers like some starved wolf. A devilish grin hiding under his beard.

 _What the hell did I just say?_ You questioned yourself as you looked into the reflective surface of a heartbeat monitor. Your own eyes taunting you, a clear window into your fractured mind.

The ghost stood behind you, a smile of triumph on his face.

"You remember me," he said.

You turned in the direction of the ghost’s reflection, but all you saw were curtains and medical equipment. You glanced back at the monitor wearily, a migraine beginning to form. You flinched from the pain, your thoughts telling you to take another pill.

"The pain is a good thing," the ghost said. "It means you're fighting this world," he crossed over to face you now, hand hovering close to your radiating skin. "Fighting this lie…" his hand hovered lower, close to your chin. “Come back to me."

"Y/N?" Steve's voice tore through the apparition and your focus was pulled back to his face. "You still with me?"

You stared dumbfounded for a moment, before pulling up your pants and switching positions with Steve, a menacing smirk asserting itself over your features.

If it took being numbed to the rest of the world by Steve’s incendiary touch in order to get the ghost to leave, then you weren't averse to spending a few more minutes in this room with him.

"Perfect," you replied as you got on your knees and freed his pulsing member. "Now, it's time for me to help you relax."

You took him in your mouth and he pulled at your hair possessively, pushing you down further until you felt his tip knocking at your uvula.

You let his scent fill you. The musk of his pure desire was overwhelming, a sensory overload that turned your mind into a blank sheet, white with static and nothingness. You savoured the quiet, the lack of discord, as you pleasured him with the same enthusiasm he had used on you. Steve’s ringed finger entwined with yours as he whispered through pleasured grunts, “God, I love you.”

You wanted to say ‘I love you’ too, but for some reason, it never resonated as completely true.

After you and Steve got cleaned up, the infirmary doors were overridden and a short but plucky looking woman walked in, her professional glower making her look older than she was.

"You mind telling me why two of my operatives locked themselves inside the med bay so they could play house instead of interrogating our prisoner?" she tapped her heels on the ground, pointing to the cameras. “You know we could see everything down in control, right?”

You cursed under your breath and Steve held back a playful chuckle.

"Executive Director Lewis," he informally saluted. “I was simply easing my wi- Uhem, I mean, _Agent Rogers_ here out of her panic attack.”

Darcy rolled her eyes at the two of you.

"Ma'am," you hid your blush by keeping your eyes on the Hydra sigil on the floor.

"Spare me the ass-kissing, get your asses into that interrogation room and make that little piggy squeal. I want to know everything he knows. It's been nearly four years since we last spotted the Canary, and I don't want to screw anything up now that he's in our custody after you failed to bring him in last time, Rogers!"

"I’ll get right on that ma'am," Steve strode out of the room.

"Darcy, hun, I've been looking for you everywhere," Clint jogged over, motioning to place a kiss on her cheek. She pulled away, a firm hand pressed to his sternum.

"That's Executive Director during work hours, Clint."

"Oh, right. Not in the workplace," he clicked his tongue. "Your father- err, the Director, wanted to see you." Clint thumbed at the doorway.

Darcy side-eyed you for a moment, a warning shot your way, “Be more discrete next time, agent.” She sauntered out of sight.

"Whew!" Clint pretended to wipe sweat from his brow. "Crisis averted. You owe me for the rescue, kiddo. The 'ol ball and chain can be a bit of a ball basher." He smirked.

"Thanks, Clint," you exhaled as you walked past him. "How did you know we were about to get a major tongue lashing from Control?"

“You know she hates that nick-name.” Clint laughed, "Her vein does this thing next to her left eye when she's about to chew someone out. I figured you would be the only one reckless enough to incur her wrath after that fiasco a few days ago."

You shook your head, "You two will never stop being an enigma to me."

"What can I say, she had me at 'What the hell do you think you're doing Agent Barton?'." His long gait caused him to turn around and talk to you while walking backwards. "Now, let’s go play good cop, bad cop and observer cop!"

You watched from the other side of the one-way mirror as Steve bloodied his knuckles bombarding the imprisoned man’s face with brutal blow after brutal blow. One of his eyes was already discolouring, the skin turning puffy.

"Well, old friend," Steve's fist connected with his mentalis muscle, splitting the skin on his cheek so blood flowed down to his neck and below in a dark red stream. "I can't tell you how long I've been waiting to see you again." Steve flashed his canines in a dishevelling smile.

Bucky's muscles reflexively shook, his eyes staring into Steve's face as though he were looking up at a stranger.

You rubbed at your arms, the hairs sticking up. You hated seeing this side of Steve, it felt… wrong. You couldn't believe this was the same man who held you each night. The same man you married. The same man you were raising a daughter with.

You glanced down at your ring, the metal still cold and unfamiliar to you.

Clint was quiet, not his usual wise-cracking self, as he looked on, watching Steve work.

"That doesn't belong there," the ghost appeared beside you. You chose to ignore it. "That's why it still feels cold no matter how long you wear it. Odd isn't it. That's not how metal and heat work."

You wrung your ear, hoping the scuffling sounds would drown out the imposing presence that bore the same face as the man in the interrogation room –they like some form of twisted doppelgangers, only one was tangible the other was incorporeal.

"Whoever you think I am," Bucky stated, a wetness to his voice. "I'm not him. Just like how you're not my best friend."

Steve cocked his head to the side, his knuckle lodging itself into Bucky's hard stomach, "What, no happy tears for your old pal?"

Blood splattered out of his mouth, "My best friend would never allow himself to be anyone’s bruiser, especially not Hydra."

"Tell me, Canary… how's the view up there on your high horse?" Steve pulled Bucky's head back, roughly. "Does it make this sting any less?" He brought his knee to Bucky's nose, an uncomfortable crunch filling the space.

"Jesus," Clint whispered. "I knew these two had unfinished business, but I've never seen anyone get under the Captain's skin like this before." 

You shivered, finding it hard to swallow. "We're getting nowhere with these tactics." You raced out of the room, bursting into the adjacent room with great speed.

Steve's head craned to yours, unhappy with your disturbance. "Leave." He barked.

"Give me five minutes with him."

"I'm in the middle of something," he was seething.

"And I was his original interrogator," you bit back. "Give. Me. Five."

Grinding his teeth, Steve let go of Bucky's head roughly before complying with your request -albeit begrudgingly.

You placed a wet cloth on Bucky's face, he instinctively leaned into your touch, and it startled you how right that felt. You jumped back slightly.

"Don't be afraid of me," he told you, his eyes still warm despite the bruised flesh forcing his eyelids closer together.

"I'm not," you answered truthfully.

"Then don't be afraid of yourself."

 _How did he know?_ You pondered. _Does he really know me? Do I know him?_

"James…" you placed the cloth back on his jaw. “That’s your name isn't it?"

"Bucky. My friends call me Bucky."

Your mind flashed back to the med bay where you whispered that very name into a pillow as you climaxed around Steve's face. You pressed your legs together, forcing yourself to stay in the present.

"Earlier, you said your plan worked. That you wanted to be here, to be in the same room as me…Why is that?"

He leaned his head forward and you applied pressure to the gash on his chin, "Isn't it obvious? I came back for you. I'd cross universes for you. And I did."

"I don't know you," you lied.

"Yes you do, I can see it in your eyes. You remember me. I know a part of you does, otherwise, why did you run away when you saw me."

Steve knocked on the door, growing impatient.

You held up five fingers before turning your attention back to the bloody and beaten man in front of you.

"Come back to me," he pleaded, leaning into your touch some more. "You're the last good thing in my life and I should have told you that every morning we woke up and every night we went to bed. You mean everything to me. You are my world. I love you."

**Warning! Memories desynchronizing...**

Searing, hot pain shot through your veins and you were repelled backwards by the forceful pounding at your temples. You cried out, vision turning to shit. Your instincts telling you to fight the pain, to make the screaming stop, but then you remembered what the ghost had said -what the phantom Bucky had told you.

_The pain is a good thing. It means you're fighting this world._

You couldn't say for certain why you chose to listen to him, why you chose to embrace the pain. Maybe it was because your ring always felt cold and foreign on your ring finger, maybe it was because there was nothing but discord rupturing within you unless Steve was touching you, or maybe it was because you had finally lost your fucking marbles. Either way, you picked yourself up off the floor, upholstered your gun and fired off two shots. One pierced the camera. The other broke the chains that bound Bucky to the chair.

"I knew you'd remember," he wrapped his arms around you in a hug, the metal of his arm not nearly as cold as the metal on your ring finger. A second later, Steve kicked in the door.

"Reunion time later, let’s get us out of here," you told Bucky as you aimed your gun at Steve, the memories of both worlds mixing to form a muddle of confusion in your brain.

"What the hell are you doing Y/N? Have you lost your mind?" Steve barked with disbelief.

You shrugged, planting a bullet in his thyroid, "No. I've found it."

Bucky used the jagged edge of the chain to dig something out of his arm, it was small and cylindrical with a red tip. He pressed it and a red LED started to flash from the tip. He extended his arm to you, a look of faith in his eyes that you'd forgotten was once a constant in your life. "Do you trust me?"

Your memories were still a mess and you felt torn, almost like two people were trying to live inside one body, but you also felt confident and when you clasped your hand in his, you felt safe for what seemed like the first time in a decade. "I don't know. But I know I'll be safe as long as you're by my side."

He smiled, running out of the room with you in tow, Steve biting back grunts of pain as he rushed after you.

* * *

"Congratulations, Agent Carter," Darcy handed her a new shiny badge that smelled of newly tanned leather and chromium. "You're officially promoted to active duty. Now you can finally step out from behind your ex-husband's shadow." She laughed darkly.

Sharon looked down at the badge, lacklustre expression making Darcy cock her head to the side. "Don't look at this as anything other than what it is. You deserve that badge and I'm proud to stand beside you as the newest member of the Syndicate."

"Agent 13?" Sharon read the designation below her name.

Darcy chuckled, "The Syndicate has a flare for the dramatic. Everyone uses call signs while out in the field." Darcy pulled out her own badge. "Since I'm the one pulling the strings in the dark, they took to calling me Control. Ridiculous, granted, but you'd be surprised how useful an alter ego is in our business of hunting subservients."

"When will I meet the rest of the team?"

"They're currently off base, but they should be arriving shortly for your inauguration," Darcy glanced at her watch.

Suddenly, the alarm blared overhead, yellow warning lights turning the walls into a nauseating colour.

"What the fuck?" Darcy groaned, head craned to the spinning lights. She pressed down on her earpiece, her tone authoritative and scary. "This is Control, what the fuck is going on in my building?"

"Ma'am, it seems agent Rogers has defected," a junior agent replied over the comms.

"Steve?" Darcy asked.

Sharon's eyes narrowed, her grip bending the badge at the sides slightly.

"Negative Ma'am. Agent Y/N."

"Son of a bitch," Darcy marched to her office.

"What's going on?" Sharon stammered.

"We have a subservient in our midst. Your ex-husband's wife just tried to break out the Canary. Get your ass to the tenth floor, I have a feeling this is a fight you might want to get in on."

"Where are you going?"

"To assemble the Syndicate and get Clint his sword."

* * *

"Come on partner, let's talk about this," Clint hurled pens at you with the accuracy of a ninja. Several ballpoint tips embedded themselves into the desk you'd flipped to the side for cover.

You shot off defensive shots, making sure to miss any vital organs, he dodged them easily, rolling to another point of cover. "I've seen how you hash things out, Clint. I'm not a fool."

“Oh, now don’t be like that.”

Bucky blocked several bullets hailing from a line of agents, the ping noise showering around him in hurried succession. Steve pushed several desks out of his way as he stalked towards the two of you.

"Y/N, honey, whatever's gotten into you, we can work it out. You aren't yourself," he hurled a desk at Bucky and his metal arm punched through it, cracking it in half. "You're sick, baby. A side effect of the medication. Think about us. Think about Sarah."

You froze and Clint managed to get a shot in at your arm, the pen piercing your flesh like a blunt needle.

"Arrghhh!" You ducked lower, pulling Bucky's shirt down. "Where the fuck is your back up?"

Bucky glanced at his watch, the countdown putting him on edge. "They should be here."

"Y/N, why are you helping him? You know who he is, who he used to work for. He's a traitor. If you turn yourself over now, I'll make sure Pierce and Lewis don't press charges," Steve assured you as he picked up a desk chair and hauled it at Bucky.

Bucky dodged to the side, his eyes landing on Steve's as they were face to face. Steve placed a strong hand on Bucky's shoulder and Bucky, in turn, spun out of his grip and twisted his arm around his back.

Steve groaned through gritted teeth as he head-butted Bucky in the nose. Disoriented and in pain, Bucky stumbled backwards and Steve's fist was about to drive a right hook into his off-balance body when a blur of blue and silver whooshed past, taking Bucky with it.

"Wha-" You searched the room for any sight of the blur or Bucky, but there was nothing except an over imposing sense of confusion hanging in the air.

Clint lobbed one more pen your way and in a flash, the blur returned, removing the projectile from its flight path. Pietro looked down at you, a dastardly smile on his face as he sent a wink your way, twirling the pen between two fingers. "Hey."

“Hey.”

And then he was gone.

Out of a hidden corner, a shower of pens were hurled at a mass of agents, including Clint, and they all hit their mark successfully. Cries of pain emanated out just when Bucky appeared behind Steve's back to heave him over his shoulder in a body slam. Something in Steve's shoulder popped and you could see the bulge of a bone sticking out of alignment as he rolled off of Bucky.

Glass shattered from the windows as a helicopter lifted to your floor, Sam at the helm with Natasha gripping a semi-automatic. Her bullets piercing through the air and ripping through several enemy agents.

While Steve and Bucky came to blows, your gaze fell on Sharon, who was pointing a gun at you, a torn expression drawing her eyebrows down. It was a silent stalemate and you dared not flinch.

Off the helicopter, a large woman with the biggest muscles you had ever seen crashed into Clint, sending him flying like he was made of papier-mâché and crashing against Steve. The Black Panther suit leeped over several desks to take on a multitude of junior agents with little effort.

"T'Challa?" you whispered causing the person to crane their neck so swiftly it would have given anyone whiplash. It was then you saw the person in the black suit had a small bust and a feminine frame. This wasn’t T’Challa, it was someone else, a fragment of your mind that was attuned to the Framework remembered that T’Challa had been killed in an explosion years prior. “Shuri…” you uttered softly and she nodded in place of a verbal reply.

"Fuck, that is one strong lady," Clint struggled to stand and out of the elevator, Darcy sauntered over, no fear in her eyes as she called out Clint's name and tossed him his swords. "Thanks, honey!" he replied as he unsheathed his katana.

Spectre materialised out of the wall and shot a plasma beam at Shuri, sending her flying through cubicles. Her vibranuim armour caused a bubble of energy to erupt from the point of contact. Papers, files and electronic components were cast through the air by the static cushion.

Pietro sped over to her side, catching her from mid-air and stopping her momentum. With a snarl, he charged after Spectre but was hit by one of Clint’s throwing stars. Shuri retaliated, pouncing onto Clint, her extended claws sparking fiery lights as they came in contact with his sword.

Sharon was still standing there, unable to move.

A few blocks down, a beam of light shot up into the sky like a beacon.

Sam shouted from the helicopter, "That's our signal, we gotta go!"

Sharon lowered her gun, looking between you, Sam and Bucky, her brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of what everything meant. “One day at a time…”

Darcy barked order's into her comms, "Warmonger handle that fucking chopper!"

"Where is he?" Shuri demanded through each slice and swipe, her Wakandan accent still thick.

Clint parried with an expert’s stance, "Where is who?"

"Peter Parker!" She growled back.

Clint swiped his leg under her and she somersaulted away, "I have no clue, kid."

A sniper got a shot off from a distance, clipping Steve's side just as he was about to get his hands around Bucky's neck, the residual force made him stumble backwards allowing Bucky rush to your side.

"We have to go, Y/N!" He gripped your shoulder. "Now!"

You looked to Sharon and suddenly her face was taken over by something, a kind of steeled determination. Then she lifted her gun and turned against her own people, aiding you and Bucky so you could make a break for it. You exchanged curt nods before you got out from behind cover and raced towards the helicopter.

"Agent Carter, what are you doing?" Darcy spat in anger.

Behind Sharon, Ava Starr materialised through the walls, stalking towards her unsuspecting prey, the shimmer of her invisibility cloak giving away her position. Shuri pounced on her, releasing an electrical spike into the ground, frying her cloaking tech.

"Uh, guys, I don't know if you have any tricks up your sleeve, but we've got a bogey incoming," Sam shouted as a small humanoid flying object left jet trails through the sky.

"Warmonger..." you gasped out.

Spectre charged his plasma beam and you instantly released Bucky's hand so you could tackle him, sending the both of you tumbling until you were mere inches from falling out of the ten-story window.

Natasha fired off her weapon at Warmonger, failing to get a shot in. She braced for impact right when a man in a winged suit clutched onto Warmonger with his claw-like feet and used his momentum to swing him into the opposite building, accidentally banging into the tail end of the helicopter in the process.

Natasha was shaken from her post and sent tumbling into the building, her eyes locking instantly on Clint's. They stared at each other with menace, an unresolved vendetta clearly hanging over them like an open wound doused in salt and spirits. They were both frothing at the mouth as they charged after each other.

“Romanoff,” he said with venom. “I’ve been dying to cross paths with you again.”

Natasha struck him in the face with a roundhouse kick, “Its Romanova! And you’ll pay for what you did to me!”

Pietro rushed to your aid when he saw you struggling to gain the upper hand with Spectre, but a minute insect-like creature whacked into his cheek, sending him hurtling backwards once it resized into a full-grown woman wearing a hornet-like suit.

You scrambled towards the helicopter, Warmonger and the Vulture coming to blows in the air a few blocks away. Bucky's metal arm wrapped around one of the Hornet's wings and pulled, ripping it from her back in a brutish manner. She screamed as though the wing was part of her.

The large Russian woman struck Steve with her shoulder, pushing him further away from you. He easily broke her hold and landed several tight formation blows to her sternum and ribs letting out cracking sounds. She gasped through the breaks and Steve forced to her up from her knees in a gruelling show of unbridled rage.

"Belinsky!" Natasha screamed after her.

Steve held her up off the ground until her feet dangled. Even though they were of similar build, Steve barely broke a sweat as he held her up, his lips curling up into a smile the more she struggled.

Another slug ripped through his cheek, turning his head from the force and lacerating it in a straight line. Yet still, Steve's grip held strong and the woman -Belinsky- clawed for breath.

Shuri tried to get to her but was obstructed by Ghost phasing ahead of her, Sharon fired off several shots to pry an opening but was kicked square in the stomach by a stiletto belonging to Darcy. Pietro was preoccupied with trying to draw Spectre's line of fire away from everyone else while Natasha and Clint were locked in a matched battle. You cursed at the harrowing realisation that you and Bucky were too far away to make a difference.

"Don't do it, Steve!" You begged, the chopper muffling your desperate pleas.

Natasha reached for Belinsky but Clint sliced through her calf muscle, making her slip to the ground.

Steve peered over at you and Bucky, the veins in his arms pulsing with adrenaline, his pupil’s dark and diluted. His smile grew into a grin and your breath halted as he twisted her neck too far, the cracking sound ringing through the pandemonium of screams, bullets and chopper blades.

"No!" Pietro cried, stalling for a moment, allowing Spectre to drill a hole through his shoulder with the plasma beam. Shuri scurried to his side and yanked him to safety, leaving Sharon to face off with Ghost and Darcy. Natasha crawled towards the limp Russian woman, choking back tears, a scream tearing through her when she finally placed two fingers on Belinsky’s non-responsive pulse points.

"What have we done?" you gasped as Bucky dragged you to the helicopter, a hail of bullets firing at Spectre from the building across from you, drawing the android's attention away from Shuri.

Steve grabbed a discarded gun from the floor and fired at Sam, one bullet piercing his gut, forcing the helicopter to swerve just as you and Bucky jumped.

The plasma cannon broke through the barricade and Wanda, who still too weak to stand, tried to summon her powers but all she achieved was a flicker of her irises. As armed men scuttled into the room, she closed both her eyes, the look of peace and fatigue battling for dominance.

If she was going to go, at least she'd die amongst friends.

The sound of guns being cocked drummed into her ears and she took a small breath waiting for the inevitable to occur. Just when she thought it was all about to be over, a stark light exploded around her and out of the light came a suit of red and gold armour.

"Stark?" she mumbled in her delusional state.

"Half-right," Pepper answered as she took on the gunmen. She raised her hands, lights from the triangle power core charging up as she braced her stance. "This suit does have under-water capabilities."

You applied pressure to Sam's chest as his lung threatened to collapse.

"Shit, hurry Bucky!" You blared into the headset as Bucky took over the reins of the chopper and flew you towards the beacon of light.

"Hold on Sam," you ran your hand against his cheek in a comforting motion, sniffling your tears away.

"We're almost there Bird-man," Bucky looked back, his brow heavy with worry. "Hold on, man!"

Sam gritted his teeth, holding back his painful snarl as more blood soaked through the compress and seeped onto the diamond implanted in your ring, slipping between the cracks and turning the carbon stone blood red.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you let the harsh winds carry your words away from Sam's ears. "This is all my fault." You could feel his skin growing colder, his lips turning near white and all you could do was pray.

When the helicopter touched down, Bucky grabbed Sam and slung him over his shoulder, hobbling with him towards the beacon tunnelling through the ground like concentrated sunlight.

Out of your blindside, Steve's shield whirred past, striking Bucky's legs and fracturing the bone.

Bucky dropped Sam as he fell forward. It was then that you realised Sam's chest wasn't moving, it was agonizingly still. Bucky failed to stand on one leg, the throbbing pain from his shattered bones forcing him to bite down.

You turned around and saw Steve and Warmonger stride towards you.

"Steve, wait," you raised your hands.

Bucky dragged Sam on one leg towards the portal, Warmonger languidly stalked after them, biding his time, building the tension.

"Should I kill ‘em Cap?" Rhodey's voice became clear once his helmet was removed.

Steve looked at you and then back at the Bucky’s hopeless labouring to get Sam into the beam of light. "Not yet, I want them to struggle."

"Steve, please!" You caressed his cheek so he could look to you. "I know you're better than this. I know that some part of you doesn't want to be this man..."

He smiled, weakly, his fingers touching the love bite he had made on your skin in the med bay. "And to think, everything had been so different an hour ago." His hand braced around your neck with no pressure applied, at first. But then he began to squeeze, forcing you backwards. "How long have you been a spy? How long have you been planning on betraying me?" he screamed.

"St-Steve… It's not… It's not like that," you rasped.

He slammed you into a wall, hard. "No? I gave up everything for you. I left Sharon for you. Tore Sarah away from her mother! And for what? So you could betray me the first chance you got?"

"Let her go, Steve!" Bucky shouted out, a few inches from the portal, his metal arm braced around the unconscious, barely breathing Sam.

"Bucky… get… Sam… out… of… here!" You ordered.

"Not without you!"

You turned your eyes to him, neck stiffly held by Steve's tightening grip, a tear running down your cheek. "You already saved me. Now… save him!"

Warmonger kneeled over Bucky, his shoulder turret aimed at his chest. "Say bye, bye birdy."

Bucky shed tears of his own, his chin quivering, "I love you." he said, oceanic eyes falling to you as he stuck a hidden blade into Rhodey's neck and hoisted himself and Sam over into the portal.

You shut your eyes, "I know..."

Bucky's arm broke through the glass, landing on both his feet as the water pushed him out of the tank and spilt onto the electrical equipment.

"Bucky?" Wanda breathed, her eyes drooping from exhaustion.

Without a second to lose, he broke through the glass of Sam's tank, the beep of a flat line haunting his senses as he laid his friend on the ground and started chest compressions.

"One, two, three..." he forced air into Sam's lungs. “One, two, three." He repeated the action.

"Come on, you're more stubborn than this!" His flesh arm pounded on Sam’s chest desperately.

"Is… Is he?" Pepper failed to finish her question, her face obstructed behind an earlier prototype helmet of the Iron Man suit.

"Come on!" He cried out. "I can't lose anyone else." He beat limply at the rigid chest.

Wanda crawled towards Sam's body, the red mist trickling out around her fingers weakly. She hovered her hand over Sam's chest and concentrated. Her breathing turned ragged, strained from overuse, and with a yell, she discharged what little energy she had left into Sam's body, an electrostatic charge bursting outward, shaking his limbs.

At first, there was nothing, and dread loomed near, but then Bucky felt the faint beating of a heartbeat below his open palm.

Sam coughed out water, his eyelids pulling back slowly.

They all sighed in relief.

"Did… did we make it?" Sam asked.

Bucky let out a breathy laugh, "Yeah, we made it."

"What about Y/N?"

Bucky's smile faded as he slumped against the wall. "She was right behind me, but then… Steve found us. He… he got to her. I… I couldn't save her." He braced his head as tears finally fell. “She wanted me to get you out.”

"No..." Wanda looked up at her best friend, still submerged in a tank. "No, I refuse to believe that. She's strong. She'll make it out of there."

Pepper walked over to the tank, reading the vitals on display. "Her heartbeat is erratic. She's in a heightened state of stress. She may go into cardio-vascular shock."

Bucky’s metal arm crushed the ring that was strung around his neck, the pathetic sound of the metal bending distracting him from the empty feeling gnawing in his gut.

They stared at the tank, waiting patiently with bated breath for her to open her eyes and return to them –return to her family.

* * *


	6. Epilogue: Those We Leave Behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning**  
>  __ **:** flashing gif below!  
> 

**EPILOGUE: THOSE WE LEAVE BEHIND**

"And do you regret it?" Your therapist inquired from behind the safety of her clipboard, her eyes shielded by the thick glass layer of her lenses.

You had been startled from your wondering thoughts, fingers shifting the ring on your left hand absentmindedly, "What?"

"Everything that happened?" She used her arm to prop herself straighter in her leather chair. "Every time you come in here, you express regret for your actions, talking about how you wished you could take it all back, how you wished you could return to the way things were before. But you've never actually said it aloud. So, I'll ask you again: do you regret everything that happened to you all those months ago?"

Your bottom lip froze half an inch from the other, your focus drawn to the sounds of rain hitting the roof. It was like being under a meteor shower.

Discontent with the silence, your therapist pushed forward, "Alright. Perhaps we should move onto something a little easier to talk about… How are things with your husband?"

Two separate faces flashed into your mind and for a second, you had lost your bearings, the depths of your mental discord colliding into uncertainty. Visions of another life bombarding your cerebral peripheral and you had to hold your eyes shut for a brief moment.

You therapist craned her neck to study your reactions better, "Y/N?"

"I… S-sorry.” You shook yourself back to the present. Back to the now. “Things with my husband…" You twirled your wedding band some more, a grievous impression permanently stamped to your brow. A kick and a jostle inside of you alerted you to the baby’s movements, your eyes trailing downwards to see a soft bump nudging forward and then systematically retreating over your protruding belly. "They're good. Better now that I'm off active duty. He worries. Though now he's just gotten substantially better at hiding it."

She scribbled something on her clipboard with a thoughtful, "Hmm." When her pen was returned to its resting position, she asked: "And how are you fairing with your impromptu return to civilian life?"

"It's…" You took your time, searching for the appropriate response to sum up the last few months. "An adjustment period."

"And what of the medication? Any further side-effects?"

"My memory gets a little foggy some mornings. But it's getting better. At least I can go an entire day without getting one of those mind-numbing headaches. The prescription change has been beneficial I think," you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you watched her jot something down with an elated look on her face.

"That's good to hear," the ticking clock let off a soothing tune for a few beats. "Ah, it seems that's all we have time for today." She placed the cap over her pen and placed her clipboard on the table.

"Same time next week?" You anchored your arms on the arm-rests to make it easier for you to lift your much heavier body out of the tight chair.

Your therapist mulled over a thought, "No, you seem to be improving immensely, I think it's a safe bet to cut down our meeting time to every other week. Give you more time to adjust to your new _normal_. You can also limit yourself to one pill a day now."

"Got it doc. See you in two weeks then," you grabbed your bag off the floor and stretched out your hand to grab onto the doorknob.

"Oh, and agent Y/N," she called out to you. A huff left your lips as you slowly turned to face her again. She smiled wryly, tucking her hands into the small pockets of her blazer. "Hail Hydra."

You held her gaze for a long pause, the oscillation between raindrops growing farther and farther apart, the grey clouds were starting to part, stray slivers of stubborn sunlight beaming through the skylight.

"Nice try doc," A cheeky smile crept across your lips as you turned the doorknob, a clicking sound emanating off the latch. "Oh, and you asked me if I regret what happened."

She leaned closer, hands keeping her steady over the table, eyes narrowing studiously.

You looked down at the warm metal on your left hand. "Only on the bad days."

Bucky was leaning against the frame of his car, thumbs hooked over the edges of his jean pockets, sunglasses framing his strong jawline. He beamed a smile at you as soon as he caught wind of you exiting the large building. Striding over to smother you in a warm embrace. 

He peeled his sunglasses back so he could stare down at you affectionately. His body relaxed and at ease, once you were trapped within the circumference of his protectively locked fingers pressed against the small of your back.

You exhaled contently, a brightness exploding in your chest. It was probably the hormones making you overly emotional, but he loved seeing that side of you. He loved bringing that side of you to the surface. Honestly, he loved everything about you and he wasn’t averse to letting you know it every morning you woke up either.

"How're my girl's doing?" he asked with his cheek firmly planted on your scalp.

"Hmm, we're fine. Just tired," your stomach betrayed you, letting out a whale call from hunger.

"Fine huh?" he teased, placing his hand protectively on your swollen bellybutton.

You swatted him away, not in the mood for a belly rub. "Maybe I am a little hungry."

"Can't have that, can we?" He laced his fingers in yours dragging you to the car with his long strides while you waddled behind him trying to keep up.

After Bucky made a fuss of strapping the seat belt around you, the two of you sat in comfortable silence as he drove back to the compound.

You cradled your bump when you felt the baby become particularly energetic with its kicks, the discomfort from your pressed bladder making you constantly shift your legs about.

"How do you know our baby's going to be a girl?" You blinked up at him.

Bucky grinned like a love-struck fool, hand inching away from the stick shift towards the spot where your belly kept fluttering from the movements within. "A hunch."

You leaned your head against the window, "I think it'll be a boy."

"If he's anything like I was as a kid, we're gonna be in big trouble."

You placed your hand behind his neck, massaging the point where his nape hairs subsided, "Ditto."

He chuckled, lacing your fingers again with one hand on the steering wheel so he could kiss the ring on your finger. "Either way… I'm happy."

You looked through the rear-view mirror. A ghost that looked eerily like Steve glared at you through hooded eyes, sending shivers down your back as you gulped. You kept eye contact with the phantom in silent provocation. A psychological form of warfare reserved for you and those you left behind.

"So am I."

When you got back to the compound you saw Wanda and Sam lifting boxes out of your room. Wanda's boxes hovered close to her, surrounded by the ruby threads of her misty projections, eyes a shade paler than her defensive red. Sam had a sweat patch forming around his shirt's V-neck.

"What's all this?" you asked.

Sam set a box down with a loud exhale, "I thought you were gonna try and keep her away until we were done settin’ up the crib in the new room?" he directed his question at Bucky.

Bucky shrugged, "My girls were hungry."

Wanda held a joyous type of energy in the way she playfully hovered the boxes about, "It was supposed to be a surprise. We're setting you two up in the suite on the top floor. There wasn't much space in your old room for the crib."

Your eyes began to well up from tears of joy, a soft laugh echoing out in the otherwise quiet hallway. Bucky instinctively moved closer to you, the sound of your voice acting as a type of magnet for him, an undisputable pull.

"You guys," you fanned at your eyes. "I don't know what to say."

Sam slinked his arm around your neck, "You don't have to say nothin'…we’re your family now. And family looks out for each other."

You sniffled as Wanda joined in on the hug, her hair tickling your nape, "I always wanted a sister."

Bucky didn't join in, he knew this moment was for you and you alone. He was perfectly happy watching you glow from all the affection and adoration you were receiving. A sensation of pride injecting through his veins with every strong heartbeat.

Wanda kept you blindfolded with her slender fingers, light travelling through the gaps between her fingers as she led you towards your new room.

"Ta-da!" she bellowed when she whipped her hands back.

You opened your eyes and took in the sight of your newly decorated, oldly furnished and spaciously laid out room. The crib was strategically placed in the lightest part of the room. A mobile of palnets spinning above the yellow bumble-bee print spread.

Wanda placed her head on your shoulder, having to bend her knees slightly to reach your height.

"Wanda," you clasped her hand in yours. "It's perfect."

"I know," she said with a proud smile. "It's easy to decorate a room when you move everything with a single thought."

You both laughed.

Leaning against the wall was the same phantom from the car, his dark eyes leering at you with both desire and disgust, venom oozing off his words, mangled by strife and irreconcilability, _"I gave up everything for you."_

You blinked him away and turned on your heel, nudging Wanda's head off of you. Suddenly a rush of blue and silver screened past your vision and for a moment you saw Pietro in Wanda's features.

She looked at you with concern, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," you nodded. "I've just been thinking."

"What about?"

"The baby," you patted your bump. "And names. I was toying with the idea of naming it Peter if it's a boy, after you brother."

Wanda gasped, her eyes becoming glassier with each stretch of time. A tweak working over her agape mouth.

"And if it's a girl, Wanda. Because you were both instrumental in bringing me back. You both saved my life. That’s one of the reason’s I asked Sam not to destroy the Framework. I couldn’t live with myself if I destroyed the people I had been made to believe were flesh and blood. The people I believed were once as real as you and Bucky and Sam are to me."

Speechless, Wanda threw her arms around you and let out a shaky laugh filled with glee. The two of you swaying about in the room while Bucky and Sam leaned against the door frame watching with satisfied looks.

Talia stared at the bloodied knife she had used to stab Steve in the back in order to save Y/N from his murderous clutches before she disappeared in that strange beam of light that seemingly disappeared with her. The blood had dried now, shavings of red plasma peeling off the serrated blades stainless steel. A trophy of her misgivings.

Tania Belinsky was dead. Her neck snapped without reservation and just like that this cruel, bleak world had taken another person she came to care for. A person she broke down her walls for. 

James was gone too. He hadn't contacted her in over several hours. They had a system. A protocol. He hadn't followed it. She knew for certain he was gone and she was left alone in the world once again. The empty feeling in her heart was survived only by the hatred in her veins.

Pietro sat on the cold ground with his head in his hands, tears running down his bruised face as he mourned. Shuri presided over him, an anchoring grip placed on his shoulder as a quiet life-jacket intended to keep him afloat through the maelstrom of grief that he was cast into. Just like Talia, Pietro had lost two people closest to him in the span of a few minutes. To say it was crippling was an understatement.

Sharon sat in the far corner of the brick room, she hadn't uttered a single word since the retreat. Her only constant was the tremble in her hands that refused to subside.

"They know who we are now," Shuri stated gravely. "It won't be long before they come for us."

Rage, pure and unnerving, pooled around Talia's eyes, "Good," she spat vehemently through grinding molars.

Everyone in the basement looked up at her with perplexity tugging on their eyebrows. She stalked off towards the spray-painted graffiti of a raised hand signing out an L, implanting the knife in the centre of it with a single swing, a crack forming around the plugged tear. The assassin in her had been sorely let down when she didn’t draw blood from the stone wall. "Let them come. It's time we stop hiding. It's time to draw the line in the sand."

“It’s time for liberation,” Sharon muttered.

“It’s time for liberation!”


	7. Sequel: The Liberators

**A Limited[Framework](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwjX55e5iOrjAhWZSBUIHV0jBYoQFjAAegQIARAB&url=https%3A%2F%2Fmarvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com%2Fwiki%2FFramework&usg=AOvVaw2LyGlyGZEYt1Krdy_2LPSR) Fic Series**  


**Blurb:** The subservient’s that disrupted the equilibrium within the framework are gone, taking Bucky and Sam’s avatars with them. Alone in the world once more, _Natalia Romanova_ forms a pact with the _Black Panther,_ leader of the newly formed resistance group -the Liberators- to rescue her old friend, _Virginia Pepper Potts_ from the clutches of a Hydra super-prison in _New Sokovia._  


Pietro begins to find his purpose as he pledges himself to the cause of the Liberators as recompence for calling in the favour to ambush Hydra’s HQ in New York, resulting in the death of a key member of their group, while Sharon deals with the fall out of her betrayal and the possibility of taking on a new persona in an effort to get her daughter back.

Meanwhile, Adrian Toomes proves to be the most unstable member of this ragtag group of misfits as he battles with his rage after his daughter and her boyfriend were kidnapped by unknown forces weeks prior. Erik takes it upon himself to keep Toomes in check, however this results in constant head-butting between the two.  


Their actions, though small, begin to turn the tide in a long dead rebellion between Shield and Hydra. But can they stay cohesive long enough to make a difference, or will their infighting be the nail in the coffin?  


##  Coming soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Dont be afraid to leave a comment, I don't bite and I absolutely enjoy feedback -negative or positive.


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